


The Amber of the Moment

by UnfortunatelyObsessed



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Aztec Gods, Canon Divergent, Dabriel - Freeform, Depression, Destiel - Freeform, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Healing, It's got bamf Cas, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kurt Vonnegut - Freeform, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of past abuse, Now with a soundtrack!, Panic Attacks, SO, Slow Burn, Suicidal Dean, The characters are finally okay, They all deserve a happy ending, Torture Mentions, Triggers, What Should Have Been, You want bamf Cas?, and acceptance, and care, basically what I think should have happened, because dammit, brief sexual assault, but also love, but nothing explicit, debriel, everyone curses like the sailors they were meant to be, frank mental discussions, happiness, he's basically a character at this point tbh, he's just mentioned so much, healthy discussion, if you watch the show and want them to just freaking talk to each other, it gets worse before it can get better, much - Freeform, no actual rape though, the ending they should have gotten, they use their goddamn words, this fic has it all, this is the fic for you, what the boys DESERVED to happen, you want the characters to finally be okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 15:16:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 78
Words: 82,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16307636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnfortunatelyObsessed/pseuds/UnfortunatelyObsessed
Summary: It had been a long time coming, Dean saw now. A full year had passed since Sam turned tail and left. A full year of hunting with John, fighting monsters and alcohol stupors, and staring at his phone at night with a familiar number stuck on his thumbs. He never dialed, though. What would he say?'Hey baby brother, I know it's been a long time and I know you don't want anything to do with me, but I miss you and was hoping I could stop by and see you sometime.’As if.ORThe One Where Maybe Destiny Is Bullshit





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here it is.  
> I took a long time to think about this work, about what I was trying to say with it. It's crazy, really. This entire thing started with a single line from the show. "I've got a GED and a give-em-hell attitude."  
> After a lot of thought, I think there are multiple things I'm trying to say, but, above all, this:  
> A single act of kindness can change everything.
> 
> So this is for all those who need an act of kindness.  
> This is for everyone facing life the hard way.  
> This is for those who just want a happy ending.  
> But.  
> Most of all.
> 
> This is for you.

“ ** _What is the purpose of life?_ **

_Trout plundered his pockets for a pen or pencil._

_He had an answer to the question. But he had nothing to write with, not even a burnt match._

_So he left the question unanswered, but here is what he would have written, if he had found anything to write with:_

_To be_

_the eyes_

_and ears_

_and conscience_

_of the Creator of the Universe,_

_you fool.”_

 

_-Vonnegut, Breakfast of Champions_

 

 

 

Dean looked at the ground as he heard tires crunching gravel. _There he goes,_  Dean thought to himself.  
  
He stood there long after the sound of the engine had faded.

There really should've been two pairs of boots standing there, refusing to watch the cloud of dust as it settled. It should've been a pair of work boots, smeared with dirt and just a smidge of dried blood, and a second, larger pair much the same. Dean toed at a rock and sighed.

Only one pair of boots.

He waited there a bit too long, trying to silence the loud wailing in his soul and squash the hope that was so desperately trying to bloom.

Sammy wasn't coming back.

“Damn college,” Dean muttered to himself before huffing out a breath and finally raising his head.

The area was almost the same as when he had put his head down, only minus a car and a pair of sneakers. He could still see the heat wavering in the air. He still had one of Sam’s plaids tied around his waist. In hindsight, Dean supposed he was wanting Sam to notice. But Sam hadn’t said a word, merely thrown his entire life - one full duffel bag - into the trunk of his ratty-ass car and took off.

It hadn't rained here in this podunk town in a long time, so long Dean couldn't even see the tracks the car had left. It flitted in his mind that maybe Dean should follow him, but he immediately winced and shoved his hands into his pockets. Not only did he not have a high school diploma, he didn't have any money or real-world skills.

He did have a father who needed him. Dean snorted. Yeah, probably needed him to clean up his alcohol-fueled rampage.

To say John was unhappy was an understatement. He _kicked Sammy out_. Out of their entire lives. And Sam just accepted it. Hell, it seemed like Sam had embraced it.

Dean hunched his shoulders and walked a little ways down the road Sam had taken, away from the life, away from his family…

Away from Dean.

It was almost like a little video montage rolling through Dean’s head, small snippets of life, the things he really shouldn't be thinking about right now. Rocking a baby Sammy to sleep. Teaching him colors and shapes. Hearing his first word (“Bean!” he had said, tottering over into Dean’s arms. John’s mouth had formed a hard line.) Shooting fireworks after their dad had passed out on the fourth of July. Marathoning Star Wars together. Teaching him how to drive. Teaching him how to pick up chicks. Teaching him to believe in himself.

Now that last one was kicking his ass.

Dean held onto the memories in his head, because Sam had obviously forgotten them. Leaving Dad? That Dean could understand. But leaving _him_? …Damn it, Sam.

Dean wiped his eyes -- yeah, it was just dust. That's what he would tell himself as he turned around and trudged back to where they were squatting for the night. John was drunk, yelling and screaming and undoubtedly blaming Dean for all of it. Usually Dean would listen, would take John's words and plant them in his heart. But tonight, he didn't want to hear any of it. He didn't want to think about everything he could've done differently until tomorrow.

Tonight, he wanted to be numb.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a long time coming, Dean saw now. A full year had passed since Sam turned tail and left. A full year of hunting with John, fighting monsters and alcohol stupors, and staring at his phone at night with a familiar number stuck on his thumbs. He never dialed, though. What would he say?

'Hey baby brother, I know it's been a long time and I know you don't want anything to do with me, but I miss you and was hoping I could stop by and see you sometime.’

As if.

“Guess that brother of yours is gone for good, huh?” John plopped down on the moth-eaten sofa beside Dean. “Been a year today.”

“Didn't know you kept up with stuff like that.”

“Can't quite forget it.”

Dean sighed before taking a swig of his bottle and handing it to John. “No, he ain't coming back.”

John passed out hours later, and Dean stared with unseeing eyes at _Star Wars: A New Hope_ playing on the staticy television. He could almost hear a younger Sam’s laugh echoing through the motel room. Almost. It had been so long that… Well, Dean couldn't hardly remember Sam’s voice anymore. In his dreams, Sam was blurry and muted, not making a sound even as he laughed and ran and played.

Being very careful not to wake John, Dean slipped out into the cool night.

With every step he took, he felt a little of his resolve shatter until he was crouched in an alley, tears streaming down his face and leather jacket clutched tightly around him.

Sam was the only person Dean ever truly believed cared about him, and he… he just…

Left.

Dean took a deep breath and stood up again, shakily making his way to the one place that had remained untainted in his memories.

The library.

He stepped into the deathly quiet building and found a small table near the back. It was nearly nine at night, and he seemed to be the only person around.

Alone, finally, he allowed the thought that had been snaking its way through his brain for the past few months to surface.

_You’re not good enough._

_'_ I will be.’

_Good enough for Mr. Stanford?_

'I’ll do it.’

Silence.

Then:

_Do it._

Dean walked quickly to the front desk, steeling himself.

The woman there had heavily hairsprayed white hair and a book in her hands.

“Vonnegut,” Dean said, slightly relieved to see a book he knew.

She glanced at him over her glasses. “You a fan?”

Dean nodded nervously. “Eyes and ears and conscience.”

She smiled at him. “What can I do for you?”

He gulped loudly. “I um… I want to get my GED.” He squeezed his eyes shut and hunched his shoulders, preparing for the laughter that was sure to accompany a 23-year-old man trying to get his diploma.

None came.

“You're not sure where to start, huh?” the woman said softly.

Dean shook his head, refusing to look up.

He didn't know that there was mud on his jacket, blood on his lip, and tear stains down his cheeks. He didn't know how vulnerable he looked, or how nervous. He just knew he looked too old for this.

“Come with me. We’ll get you started.”

Dean’s head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise. “You… You will?”

The woman sat down her book gently. “Of course I will. Now, follow me.”

She led him to a shelf of books Dean would later recognize as study guides.

“What was the last year of school you completed?” she asked him, hand poised over the shelf.

His eyes were wide, staring at all the books and the acronyms he didn't understand. What was he doing? He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this…

“Sir? Sir.” He snapped his eyes to look at her. “It's okay. Just tell me what year it was. One step at a time.”

“Tenth,” Dean responded softly. One step. He could do one step.

“Tenth,” she repeated, pulling down a few books from the shelf. “Do you live around here?”

Dean shook his head. “My dad and I travel a lot.”

“How long do you have, then?”

“Few weeks, tops.”

She paused. “That's a very short amount of time.” Dean’s face fell. “Oh no, oh dear. Don't look like that. Tell you what, if you can come here every day and let me help you, we can get you to pass. Deal?”

He met her eyes. “I-... Okay. Deal.”

She smiled at him. “My name is Barbara, by the way.”

“Dean.”

“Well, Dean. Let's get started.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dean had to be careful. He had to be so, so careful. John wasn't taking him on hunts for a while because he screwed up a job in Montana, but that didn't mean John wouldn't follow him. Maybe Dean was being paranoid, the way he cut through buildings and doubled back to the library every morning. But paranoid with a GED was better than beaten senseless without one.

Not that he thought John would beat him now, but he would be lying if he said it hadn't happened a few times.

Not that anyone needed to know that.

Dean studied under Barbara’s supervision every day, just as promised. She taught him algebra and geometry (it had been a while) as well as some history. She didn't need to teach him English, they discovered. Even with the imperfect way that Dean talked, he could pick out an error like nobody’s business. They’d take breaks every so often, too, and just talk, about anything and everything.

“So why did you decide to do this?” Barbara finally asked him. He had been expecting this, really.

“My brother.”

“Oh, your brother talked you into it?”

“Nah,” Dean said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “Sammy doesn't know.”

“Is he… like your dad?” she asked, hesitating. They had breached this topic once before, and Barbara learned it was to be tread lightly.

“Nah, couldn't be farther from him. He just…” Dean took a deep breath. “He's this really smart guy who got like a full ride to Stanford and Dad kicked him out because of it and… I dunno. I feel like I'll tell him and he’ll be worried that I'm gonna try and go to Stanford, too.”

“Do you want to?”

Dean looked at Babs, looked away, and looked back. “I’m not smart enough.”

“That's not what I asked.” She gave him a gentle smile.

“... Yeah. Yeah I do. I wanna be with my baby brother.”

“Then _be_ with him! Why not?”

Dean winced. “He left, Babs. He left me and didn't even look back. I bet he doesn't even miss me. I'd just… I'd be a burden.”

Barbara sighed and leaned back. “Describe this Sammy to me.”

“Ah, tall. Well, about my height. Brown mess of floppy hair. Wears plaid 'n’ tennis shoes. Hates when I call him Sammy.” Dean grinned.

Barbara suddenly snorted. “Sam Winchester?”

Dean froze. “How did you know that?”

“These glasses and wrinkles aren’t just for attracting mates, boy. I spend a bit of time over at Stanford’s library, too. You know it's just a few miles from here?”

Dean nodded, silent.

“Well, anyways, I see your brother in the library a lot. Had a few conversations with him, too. I can't imagine that ray of sunshine considering _anyone_ to be a burden - Dean, look at me - especially someone who is going through all this trouble to be with him again. You're a good brother, Dean.”

Dean pursed his lips and looked down, cheeks glowing red. “So, algebra?”

Babs laughed good-naturedly. “Yes. Algebra.”

They studied in silence for a while before Dean finally whispered, “Can you do me a favor?”

Babs raised an eyebrow. “Aren't I already?”

Dean smiled a little. “I mean… Can you ask Sam if he misses me? But… don't tell him you know me or anything. I just wanna know.”

She returned his smile. “Of course, Dean.”

Days passed like this, Dean studying during the daytime and returning to an increasingly more frustrated and increasingly less sober John each time. Whatever he was hunting (John had refused to give Dean any details) was whooping his ass. Literally. It got to a point where Dean would come home to find his dad passed out on the ratty couch, whiskey bottle in hand.

That was about when Dean started sneaking books home.

'Home.’

Babs caught him the second night, sliding books into his bag. He had expected whiplash, but instead had gotten laughter. “This is a library, Dean Winchester. If you get a card, you can take as many as you like.”

“Oh.” That's all that came out. “Oh. Um, how much are they?”

She winked. “For you? Free.”

Dean shook his head. “No, ma’am. I can't take any special treatment. How much are library cards?”

Not that Dean ever knew, but he had just broken Barbara’s heart for the third time.

She had looked at him, and he didn't know that she saw a young man with holes in his jeans and shoes that didn't quite fit. A scared child trapped in an adult’s body. A boy she’d go so far as to say didn't get enough to eat most days.

And here he was, asking to pay for a library card.

“It was a joke, dear. Here, I'll go get the form.” She turned quickly to hide the tears that had started rolling down her face. Her composure had returned by the time she did the same. “Here, just fill this out and you can take those all home. _Legally_.”

Dean smiled at her. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Because, God damn it, you've got to be kind.” She didn't know if Dean would recognize the quote, but the sudden softness in his eyes said that he did.

“Thank you. I've… I've never had someone be so kind to me.”

Barbara hid her wince well. “That's a shame, Dean Winchester. You deserve all the kindness in the world.”

He didn't look like he agreed.

As he gently arranged the books in his small bag, Babs piped up, “I saw Sam last night.”

Dean froze. “You did?”

“Mmhm. At Stanford’s library. I asked him about his family.” Dean looked at her expectantly, but as if he was expecting her to say Sam hated him. “I thought you'd want to know that he misses his older brother more than anything.”

Dean let out a shaky breath. Sam misses him? _Him?_ “Thank you,” Dean said, gathering up his bag and speed-walking away. He broke into a run when he got outside, relishing the stifling July heat. It crawled up his shirt and down his throat, thick and sickly and exactly what Dean needed. Sam didn't miss him. Sam couldn't miss him. He was just keeping up appearances and… and…

Dean stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, hands shaking and his breathing rapid and short. Dread crept up his throat and he fell to his knees, hugging himself tight.

“Dean?” a voice sloshed through the ringing in his ears. “Dean!” Hands wrapped around him and shook him slightly. “Listen to me. Tell me five things you see.”

He swallowed thickly, eyes darting up to look around as his chest heaved and he couldn't get enough air, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe-

“Dean!”

“C-clouds. I- I can't… Um, s-sidewalk, ah, hands, hands. Frog. I just- I need- grass. I can see grass.”

“Now four things you can hear.”

He tried to quiet his breathing. “Cri-crickets. Y-you. You. I- you. Um, running water.” He gulped in air. “You. I- windchimes.”

“Good. Three you can touch.”

He splayed his fingers out on the ground. “Concrete. Um, my jeans.” He reached out and poked the frog, who ribbited in protest. “Frog.”

“Two you smell.”

“Barbeque. Night air.”

A fragile hand opened in front of him, holding out a wrapped soft mint. “And one you can taste.”

He took the proffered candy and stuck it in his mouth. “Peppermint.” He turned his eyes to Barbara, who was smiling sadly, kneeling beside him.

“Are you okay now?”

Dean mentally took stock of himself before nodding. “I think so. What…?” He didn't know how to finish his question, so he let it hang in the air between them.

“A panic attack, and it's called grounding. It worked wonders for my son when he had them. Dean, if you think the whiplash wouldn't be too bad, I don't want you to go back to your father tonight.”

Dean fidgeted with the cellophane. “I'm not usually like this.”

“I know.”

“Do you think the library would care if I slept in there overnight?”

“No, but you're free to come to my house as well. I have a spare bedroom.”

Dean looked at her again. “Why is this all happening at once?”

She stood up and offered Dean a hand, which he took. “I think you're starting to realize that you’re better than you've been treated. You're smart, Dean. And you're doing something with it, and that's new and scary to you. You don't know where this road leads. Does that sound about right?”

“Spot on, actually.”

“I'm thinking you probably won't get much sleep tonight. So how about one last cram session, and we get you to take the GED test tomorrow. Would that sound okay? Are you ready?”

Dean nodded resolutely, letting some of his former bad-ass-ery bleed into his expression. “I'm ready.”

“Good. I live not too far from here; we can put on some tea and talk Vonnegut for a while before hitting math again.”

The feeling that hit Dean didn't have a word. It was something along the lines of:

Suddenly sad that he was too old to be adopted.

He smiled at Barbara.

Unbeknownst to him, she felt it, too.


	4. Chapter 4

Barbara lived in a small, homely place, the kind of place that you would open the cabinets and expect to find Mason jars filled with vegetables. There was a large landline hanging on the wall, and the wallpaper was typical old-lady flowery.

Dean, however, didn't know that was typical.

“I like your house,” he said, slightly awestruck. He couldn't remember the last time he had been in a real house like this.

Barbara laughed. “Thanks. It's just a small place, but I like it, too. What kind of tea do you like?”

Dean looked at her. “Um…. Sweet?”

“Oh dear. You've never had real tea before, have you? Well, no matter!” She leaned in and winked. “We’re gonna try 'em all.”

Dean grinned at her. “Okay.”

She headed to the kitchen. “Down the hall, third door on your left is the guest bedroom. Make yourself at home!”

What did _that_ mean?

He went to the aforementioned door and laid his books by the bed. It was a small room, with a few odds and ends lining the shelves on the wall. In all honesty, it looked like someone had lived here before. He remembered Babs saying she had a son and left it at that.

“Hey, Dean!” she yelled from the kitchen.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“How many pancakes do you want?”

He walked back to the kitchen to see Babs already making pancakes. She glanced at him and grinned. “Night pancakes are the best pancakes.”

“I wholeheartedly agree.” He grinned his signature, shit-eating grin and pulled out a chair to sit in.

“I'm just going to make ten and if you're still hungry I can make more.”

Dean had taken a sip of the tea that sat in front of him, and now he was coughing. “Ten?!”

“Of course. Put some meat on them bones,” she teased.

Dean chuckled at the colloquialism. “Where are you from?”

“Arkansas, mostly. When Joe and I got married, we moved out here to California for the sunshine and beaches.”

“And you chose _Palo Alto?”_

She smiled to herself. “Joe taught at the college for a while.”

“What, Stanford?”

“Dearie, no! The local college. He was very into agriculture. Got me all started on gardening and a little bit of homesteading, for a while there.”

“Where is he?” Dean asked. He was never much one for niceties.

“Ah, heaven, I suppose. He, ah, was in a pretty brutal car wreck a few years back.”

“Oh. I'm so sorry.”

“I've learned to live with it. What about you? I know you said you travel a lot, but where would you consider to be your home base?”

Dean swirled his tea in his cup to cool it. _How strange_ , he thought to himself, _to have anything but a bottle._ “Kansas. Lawrence, Kansas.”

Babs took a drink of her own tea, waiting for a pancake to cook. “Thought I detected a bit of a drawl there.”

He regarded her for a moment. “Yeah, we left when I was four. There was a um, a fire at our house. It killed my mom.” He gently thought over how to phrase the next bit. “It was arson,” he finally decided on. “My dad kinda went crazy for revenge after that. That's why we travel so much.”

“Tragedy can make the best of men into devils.”

“Who said that?”

“I did.”

Babs prided herself on how an easy smile slipped onto Dean’s face.

“How do you like the tea?” Barbara turned back to flip the pancake.

“It's much better than what I normally have.”

“Mm, and what's that?”

“Fermented wheat tea.”

Babs almost snorted. “You'll find none of that here. Only the good, wheat pancakes and leaf tea.” She sat down a plate of three pancakes in front of him. “Eat those until the others are ready.”

Dean took a tentative bite and almost sobbed at how good they were. When was the last time he had good, homemade food? Well, probably nineteen years. Yet here he was, drinking hot tea and eating fluffy pancakes while an old woman softly hummed to herself and chatted with him about anything and everything.

“If this isn't nice, I don't know what is,” Dean quoted softly to himself.

He didn't see the smile on Babs’s face.

They ate together, Dean finishing six pancakes and Barbara three.

“Dean, if I'm being entirely honest with you, I don't think you need to study anymore. You can do this. You're definitely good enough,” she finally said, pouring them both another cup of tea.

Dean eagerly took his cup and blew across it. “I think so, too,” he told her, smiling. The smile slowly slid off his face and his eyebrows drew together in confusion.

“What's wrong?”

“I just… I've never had that thought before.”

Babs looked at him with an unreadable expression for a while. “Let's not dwell on that, okay? You've had a long night. I bet you're ready for tomorrow. Let's finish these cups of tea and get you rested up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Dean hadn't had a nice hot shower in a long time, too. All these things he had never thought about, all these things he was missing. He wondered if Sam felt this way his first night at college. Did college have hot showers? Pancakes? Hot tea and warm laughter?

He put his old, grimy clothes back on and headed to his room for the night.

“Dean Winchester, I _know_ you're not about to sleep in those clothes. They look like they've never been washed!”

Dean looked down at himself and raised an eyebrow at Barbara. “I don't have any other clothes.”

She rolled her eyes, honest to God. “There are sure to be clothes to fit you in my son’s old room. Just pick something out. Don't get mud in his bed.” She turned and waved over her shoulder. “Goodnight.”

Dean went to his room as she went to hers.

It was the way a room might look if someone left home with the intention of returning. Or, Dean assumed so, anyways. He wondered when college let out. If it let out.

Fresh pajamas on, he slid into bed and turned off the lamp. A soft sound made him turn it back on again.

Eyes.

That was the first thing he saw.

Eyes that were cold and dead and lifeless and much too close to his own.

Weaponless, all Dean could do was stare back at the ghost in front of him.

About his age. About his height. Nothing else the same, though.

They stared for a long, long time before the ghost finally smiled a little and nodded at Dean. He put a hand on his shoulder, patted, and disappeared.

Dean looked to the pictures hanging on the wall and let out a ragged breath.

What a way to meet Barbara’s son.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean slept for nine hours, which was five more than usual. After his brief ghost encounter, it took him a long time to get to sleep. He couldn't very well try and hunt a ghost that wasn't causing any harm (his father would see it differently.)

He awoke with a bad case of bedhead and a very disoriented sense of where he was. He was warm and content for all of five seconds until he bolted upright with two realizations:

  1. Today was the day, and
  2. He had never called John.



Dean decided that number two was the more pressing matter and dug his phone out of his bag, dialing a quick number and holding it to his ear.

John picked up on the third ring. “ ‘Llo?”

“Hey, dad. It's me.”

“Where- ugh, the fuck time is it?”

Dean looked at the clock hanging on the wall. “About ten.”

“In the morning?”

“Mhm.”

“You been gone all night?”

“Yep. Wanted to call and say I was okay.”

“Mm,” John mumbled absently. “Tell your one night stand 'bye here soon, we gotta roll out.”

Dean froze. “Wh-what? Why?”

“Don't question me. One hour. Be ready.” John hung up.

Dean’s feet were carrying him down the hall before he realized he wasn't sitting down anymore. “Babs! BABS!”

“In here, dear.”

Dean ran to the voice, ending up in the living room. “Dad called,” Dean blurted out before Babs could ask what was wrong. “We’re leaving in an hour. What do I do?!”

She was up and scurrying around before he had finished talking. “Your best,” she finally responded, handing him the test. “I got the paper copy just in case. It's supposed to take four hours but… Dean.” She met his eyes. “You can do this.”

He ran a shaky hand through his hair as he grabbed the fucking fragile papers, goddamn it, it was all so fragile, and he was the damn bull in the china shop and-

“Dean.”

He stopped.

“Breathe.”

He breathed.

“Trust me. You can do this. Now, go do it.”

He did it.

He sweated and grabbed fistfuls of his own hair and jiggled his knee but he did it. He finished the whole damn test in forty-five minutes and then he was rushing to pack everything up.

“I'll have the results mailed here. Dean, how do you want me to tell you?”

He was scribbling his number onto a napkin with the same stupid pencil he took the test with. “Don't - dammit - don't tell me if I didn't make it. Only if I did. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“And - and just - goddamn it,” he pulled her into a tight hug, his face pressed tight to her hair. “Thank you for everything.”

She smiled at him. “Anything for a fellow Vonnegut lover.”

He smiled back, hesitated, and pressed a kiss to her hair. “See ya around, hopefully.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

He was out the door again before her tea had even gotten cold.

He ran - he _fucking booked it_ to the ratty old shit shack that they had been squatting in for weeks now and the first words out of his dad’s mouth were, “Where did you get that god-awful shirt?”

He looked down at the shirt that was Not His as he threw his bag into the trunk. It was a black shirt with a simple white phrase on it.

**_So it goes._ **

“Won it in a bet,” Dean said.

John grumbled about something or another while Dean made sure everything that he owned was out of the shack. Not that it took very long to check; Dean’s entire life, much like Sammy’s, fit into one bag.

“Let's get on the road, boy. We’ve already wasted enough daylight.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dean hopped into the passenger’s seat and leaned back. “Where are we headed?”

“Some small town in Arkansas. Got a ghost problem.”

Dean would've snorted if it wouldn't have called attention to himself. The parallels were almost literary.

Literary.

Goddamn.

He actually did that. He actually just _did_ that! He took the test to get his GED.

_Yeah, in forty-five minutes._

‘I think I did okay.’

_You never do okay._

'I…’ Dean looked out the window as the world began to blur. 'I never do okay.’

_You'll never see her again._

_You don't deserve to go to college._

_She's glad you're gone._

Dean glanced down at his shirt, and, for the first time in as long as he could remember, silenced that damned voice.


	6. Chapter 6

He was stupid.

He was so, _so_ damn stupid.

He actually thought… Well, nevermind what he thought. It had been three weeks in this stupid hillbilly town and he hadn't received a single call or text, which could only mean one thing.

He didn't pass.

It was for the best, he thought to himself. What would he do in a college? Annoy Sam, probably. Flunk. Drink too much and lose a lot of money. Lose his dad.

Dean sighed and steadied the flashlight he was holding for John. The one ghost problem had uncovered two more and it really felt like a never-ending spiral. Maybe that's all Dean was doing. Entering a never-ending spiral to his death.

Damn, even Dean reeled back from that thought. Wasn't he, like, seven years too old for this kind of shit? Do people even go through phases when they reach adulthood?

_See, you can't even answer that easy question. And you thought you were going to get into college?_

His inner voice sounded suspiciously like John.

“Found it,” John announced, pulling a fingernail from between the floorboards. Dean tossed him a lighter and ghost numero cinco was out for the count. “Now for Anderson’s spirit…”

Dean followed him blindly around the old house, not really paying attention to anything. That's probably why John clamped a hand over Dean’s mouth and pulled him flat against him, back to the wall, peeking out over the edge. Dean flicked off his flashlight and darted his eyes to the side.

“Ghouls, three of 'em,” John’s breath ghosted against his ear. He released Dean quietly. He held a single finger up to his lips, almost at exactly the same time that Dean’s cell phone buzzed.

Even as Dean fought tooth and nail (literally) against these monsters, he couldn't help but feel slightly hopeful that maybe - maybe, this was it. That he made it.

The fight lasted about fifteen minutes, but it felt more like fifteen hours as Dean was practically _begging_ these ghouls to just keel over so he could check his damn phone!

John and Dean stood, covered in guts and gore from head to toe, with finally-dead carcasses around them. Dean was still breathing heavy when John held out his hand. “Hand it over.”

“Huh?”

“Your phone almost got us killed. You know better than to keep it on vibrate. What's rule nineteen?”

“Silent-” Dean gulped, “Silent at all times on a hunt.”

“And since it was so damn important, apparently, _I_ will read it.”

Well, shit.

Shit fuck shitty shit shit.

That's all that was going through Dean’s head as he shakily handed over his phone. John flipped it open and hit a few keys before sighing and tossing it back. Dean checked his texts and -

No new messages.

“What?” Dean asked, confused. His phone had definitely vibrated back there.

“One of them damn scam texts. Said 'Congratulations’ and nothin’ else. Let's move.”

Dean couldn't hear anything suddenly. There was just the dull roar of blood rushing through his ears as he stumbled after his father.

Congratulations.

Congratulations.

Dean grinned.

 _Con-_ **_fucking_ ** _-gratulations!!!_

His hands were shaking with excitement as they drove back to their motel room. His palms were sweaty and he had to keep them pressed against his thighs but _who cared because !!! congratulations!!!_

 _Congratulations!_ He brushed his teeth.

 _Congratulations!_ He heard John slam the door as he left for the bar.

 _Congratulations!_ He dialed a familiar number.

It answered on the first ring.

“Dean?”

“Heya, Sammy."


	7. Chapter 7

“What's wrong?” Sam’s voice sounded rough, like he had just woken up. Dean suddenly realized it was probably ass o’clock in the morning by now.

“Does something have to be wrong for me to call?”

“I haven't heard from you in over a year, Dean.”

“Yeah I-...”  _ I didn't want to be a burden.  _ “Communication is a two-way street, Sammy.”

Sam sighed at the nickname. “Why are you calling then? What- no, it's okay, go back to sleep.” The second half sounded farther away and definitely not directed at Dean.

“You got a lady there, tiger?”

“Yeah my… girlfriend. Dean, really, why did you call?”

He felt his façade slip from his grasp. “Do… Okay Sammy, you've gotta promise me you ain't gonna lie to me. No matter what. Even if it'll hurt my feelings or whatever.”

“Oh, you have feelings?”

“Ouch, baby brother.”

Sam chuckled a bit. “Yeah, I promise.”

“Do you… miss me?”

Sam was silent for what felt like eternity. “Yeah, I miss you, Dean.”

“How much?”

Sam almost laughed. “What do you mean how much? A shit ton, dude.”

“Enough to…” Dean swallowed nervously. “Enough to help me apply for scholarships? To um… to Stanford?” Dean bit his tongue, wanting to take what he just said back but also wanting to keep it out there.

“I… I mean, you can't just waltz in but I could help you take your GE-”

“I passed.”

“You…”

“I got my GED.”

Sam was silent. Dean held his breath until Sam responded. He didn't know that Jess - Sam’s girlfriend - was wiping away Sam's sudden, involuntary tears as he grinned the biggest grin she had ever seen.

“Sam?”

“Yeah - yeah, Dean, I'm still here I'm just… God I'm so proud of you I can't… holy shit. That's amazing, Dean! Congratulations!”

There wasn't a pretty girl to wipe Dean’s tears away but it was okay. He did it himself with a relieved smile on his face, too. His breath hitched as he talked. “I just found out today and I was hoping that maybe I- could I - could I apply…”

“Dean, for the love of all that is holy, **_yes!_** _Please_ apply to Stanford!!!”

Dean took in a shuddering breath. “Really?”

“Yes! Oh my God, yes!! We’ll have a bottle of champagne ready to celebrate with! Jess- Jess! Dean got his GED!” There was a soft voice that didn't quite make it through the phone. “She's happy, Dean. She says she’s really proud of you, too.”

“T-Tell her I said thanks.”

“He says thanks. Ah, Dean! I can't believe- I'm so proud and-...” There was a very silent pause. “What about Dad?”

Dean winced. He knew he would have to deal with this eventually. “I'm… I'm telling him tomorrow when he wakes up.”

“Oh God.”

“Yeah…”

“Are you at least somewhere public? Witnesses?”

“Ah, kinda? We’re in this little podunk town in Arkansas called - dude, you will never believe what this town is called.”

“Is it another one of those innuendo towns? Like, what was it - Canal Bead?”

“Ah, good ol’ Anal Bead. It's literally called Weiner.”

“You're fucking joking.”

“I'm not.”

There was a pause, and then both brothers burst into laughter.

“I'm - in - fucking -  _ Weiner _ town!” Dean choked out between laughs.

“More - like - _Weiner_ _Fucking_ town!” Sam responded. Dean heard the tell-tale thump of Sam literally laughing himself into the floor.

“Oh God…” Dean wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Oh dammit I missed you.”

A few giggles still escaped Sam’s lips. “Me, too. Damn, it's good to hear your voice.”

A car door slamming outside caught Dean’s attention. “Shit. Sam, Dad’s back.”

“You better hang up, then. Unless he's not angry anymore?”

“Dude, he remembered the fucking  _ date _ you left on.”

“Oh shit. Yeah, don't get caught with me.”

“I won't. G’night, bitch.”

“Goodnight, jerk.”

Dean hung up the phone and tried to wipe the smile off his face. He couldn't, so he slipped into the bathroom for a shower. He grinned and water trailed along his laugh lines as in the next room, John looked through Dean’s call history.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean had never known fear quite like this.

When he had gotten out of the shower, face finally schooled, John had been asleep on one of the two beds. Dean had crawled into his own and waited for sleep to come.

How was he supposed to tell his dad?

'Hey, dad. I got my GED without telling you and now I'm leaving for Stanford. Have fun hunting alone!’

_Goddammit, Winchester. Go to sleep._

What would Dad do?

Would he yell? Cry? Fight?

_Sleep. S-L-E-E-P._

Right. Sleep. Dean tucked his arm under his pillow.

‘But, like… what if Dad gets hurt? It would all be my fault.’

_Oh my fucking God._

'I can't kill him…’

_You're gonna kill yourself if you don’t sleep._

Dean sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. Count sheep. Count backwards from 100 by 3’s. Recite the Fibonacci sequence.

_Pfft. Nerd._

Dean smiled. 'Fuck yeah. Finally.’

He woke up in the morning way before John did.

He quietly got out of bed and packed his things, prepared for the worst. Then he started a pot of what he fondly referred to as “Kayak Sex Coffee.”

Because it's fucking close to water.

About the time the pot began to percolate, John groaned and pulled the covers over his head.

“What time is it?”

“Almost five in the afternoon.”

John jerked upright. “Jesus Christ! Why did you let me sleep so long?!”

“I was sleeping too, sir.”

John sighed, running a hand over his face. Dean poured him a cup of coffee silently.

“You got any new leads on this damn ghost problem?” John asked, motioning for Dean to bring him his coffee.

“Um… no. I don't.”

John took a sip and winced at the taste before standing up.

“What about Sam?”

Dean froze, back to John and headed for the coffee maker. “What?”

“Don't 'what’ me, boy. I know you called Sam last night. If you ain't got any new leads, then you didn't call him about hunting.”

“I can't call my brother?”

“Not after he betrayed and abandoned us, you can't. Now, why did you call him?”

John was calm. Too calm. Something in Dean started shaking.

“I was…” Dean turned back around to face him, “I was asking about scholarships.”

He waited quietly as John nodded to himself and took another sip of coffee. “Scholarships, huh? To what? Stanford?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You ain't smart enough for that school. It's somethin’ prestigious.”

“I got my GED, sir.”

“Huh. So that's why you kept goin’ to that library.”

“...Yes, sir.”

John took a few steps towards Dean. “So, what? You were planning on abandoning me, too?”

“Not… I didn't…”

“Boy.”

“I… yes, sir.”

“For Sam.”

“Yes, sir.”

John sipped his coffee. “You ain't goin’ nowhere.”

“I… I'm going to college, sir. You can't stop me.”

John smiled and shook his head. “Nah, you're not. You're mine and I ain't lettin’ ya go nowhere.”

Extremely unceremoniously, John shoved Dean into the dingy bathroom and shoved a chair under the handle.

“Look, son,” John said through the door. “I know this life isn't good for people. I know that. But you can't… You can't leave me, too. Your mom left. Sam left. You… You're all I've got left, son.” He wiped his eyes roughly. “So just… stay. For a bit. And rethink this, okay? I'll even give you my word that I won't cut you out of info anymore. You wanna know what I'm hunting?”

Dean stopped banging on the door, which he had begun almost immediately.

“The demon that killed your mother. I'm getting close. I'm getting so damn close and I just… I need you here. With me. To kill it. And then it'll just be you and me together, like the good old days. Before all this damn demon business. Just… I'm sorry but you're gonna run off on me if I let you out. Think about it, okay? Like a real adult. Just think about it.”

Dean heard a door slam somewhere outside his small room and suddenly understood.

He was alone.

“Dad?” Dean called out, palms pressed flat against the door.

Silence.

“Dad!” He rammed his hands into the wood, but it seemed the motel’s entire budget had gone to extremely solid doors.

He yelled and kicked and screamed in anger, but it didn't budge.

_God fucking dammit!_

He closed the toilet lid and sat down, head in his hands. There was no telling where John had gone or when he'd be back. He was stuck here.

Then he heard a very peculiar sound.

Like a sort of _whoosh_ outside the door.

He leaned forward and pressed his ear to the wood, straining for some semblance of a sound.

Crackling?

Oh…

Oh dear God…

Dean began kicking and punching the door with renewed enthusiasm. “Dad! Someone! _Anyone! Help!”_ His breathing was coming out quick and short, and he needed a plan.

“Okay, Dean, okay, you can figure this out. You've got this. Calm down, just calm down. Five things you can see. C’mon, just like Babs taught us,” Dean rambled to himself, pacing in his limited space. “Toilet. Shower curtain. Dingy rug. Muddy boots. Sink. And four you can touch. Jacket. Tile. Handle. Door. Three you can hear.” Dean gulped. “C’mon. Crackling. Percolating. My steps. And two you can smell. B-b…” Dean took in deep, heavy breaths, “Burning wood, smoke.”

He shook his head and gave up, returning to pounding at the bathroom door. “ _For fuck's sake someone help me!!! There's a goddamn fire!!!”_

**_A fire. A woman. An infant brother thrust into his arms._ **

The bathroom was filled with smoke now. The door was hot.

_“GODDAMMIT!”_

Dean was choking.

**_Blood. Screams. Burning flesh._ **

He fell to his knees.

The sound of a door being knocked in.

**_Hey Jude…_ **

“Hello?” Dean yelled out, coughing at the smoke in his lungs. Things were getting hazy.

“Dean?!”

Hey, he knew that voice.

**_The infant brother._ **

“Sam!”

The sound of a chair being thrown across the room and suddenly the door was open and he was stumbling into his brother’s arms. He looked around and saw a faulty coffee maker on fire, lighting up half the room in a quickly-spreading blaze.

“-an! Dean, can you hear me?! We have to go! Now!!!”

Dean’s brain felt sort of fuzzy. Go? Go where? Dad was supposed to be back soon.

Sam stooped and swept Dean off his feet in a single motion, carrying him out of the burning motel.

Firetrucks didn't arrive for almost five more minutes, by which point Sam had phoned Jess to ask what to do.

“Is he still breathing?”

_Ohhhh, she sounded pretty._

“Yeah, yeah, he is.”

“Any changes in mental status?”

_That sounded fancy. Bet she's real smart._

“He's… acting really confused. He doesn't know what's going on.”

_That cloud sure is black and low. Didn't know they made 'em like that._

“Skin color?”

Dean glanced at his own skin, frowning. “I'm white,” he said, then proceeded to burst into a coughing fit.

“Was that him I just heard coughing?”

“Yeah, and his skin is really pale. Like, almost blue.”

“Get him to the hospital. He inhaled too much smoke. Go. Now.”

Sam kept her on the line as he ushered Dean into his rental car and sped off at an unholy speed.

“Why was he even in there?”

“He was like, trapped inside the bathroom. Dean. Dean! Listen to me. Why were you trapped inside the bathroom?”

“She sounds pretty.”

“Dean!” Two voices at once.

Dean frowned. “Dad locked me in there.”

_Aw, where did all the nice voices go?_

“Why… Because you said you were going to college?”

Dean nodded. “I started the fire by accident. Made Kayak Coffee.”

“Sam, how much longer until you two get to the hospital?”

“Almost there, Jess. Pulling in, now.”

Dean looked at the bright white building and laughed a little when Sam picked him up bridal style and ran into the hospital.

“Buy me dinner first,” Dean managed to drawl out, and everything went to black.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean awoke to a really gross feeling in his nose and a terrible headache. He groaned and lifted a hand to his face, only to have it yanked away.

“Nonono, Dean. Leave that there.”

He glanced over and saw Sam with dark circles under his eyes.

Dean grinned and said, “Hey there, college kid.”

Sam squeezed Dean’s hand gently. “Hey yourself. How ya feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a semi.”

Sam laughed, “Still dramatic, I see. Doctors say you should be good to leave here later today.”

“Cool. Always hated hospitals.”

“I know, Dean. You're basically a germaphobe.”

“Better than bein’ sick all the damn time,” Dean grumbled.

They sat in silence for a bit, but Dean knew his brother well. So he sighed, “Alright, what are you tryin’ not to ask me?”

“What… What exactly happened yesterday?”

Dean cocked his head back. “Tell me your side and I'll tell you mine. Last I checked you were still getting banged in Palo Alto.”

“That's fair.” Sam finally let go of Dean’s hand and leaned back in his chair. “After you hung up, I was talking to Jess and she asked why I was so worried about you telling Dad. And I guess I just kind of realized that I… I dunno. I didn't want you to have to face him alone. You always cared a lot more about what he thought than I did. So I caught a plane to Memphis, got a rental, and rolled in to Weiner - Dean quit laughing, we’re having a serious conversation - and I was looking for where you might be at when I saw the smoke. I figured I should stop and help whoever it was and - ouila. It was you.”

“Yeah, thanks for that. Guess you finally repayed a nineteen year old favor.”

“Huh?”

“The night Mom died. I carried you out of the house.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. You never knew that?”

“No... I… I didn't.”

“Hm.”

They were quiet for a moment before Sam gently shoved Dean. “Dude, spill.”

Dean groaned melodramatically and said, “Dammit. Fine. He apparently already knew I had gone to the library and that you had called me, so I just went ahead and told him the rest and he was - damn, he was fucking _calm._ Telling me I couldn't leave n shit. And he trapped me in the bathroom and said that I needed to think things over like an adult-”

“ _As_ he had you trapped in the bathroom?”

“Yeah, what a hypocrite, right? Anyway, he told me that he'd been hunting the demon that killed Mom and that he was close and needed me or whatever, begged me to think about it again, and left.”

“Just left.”

“Just left. And I heard the coffee maker catch fire and honestly kinda panicked. I couldn't get out. I…” Dean suddenly cleared his throat and looked away. “And then you rescued me and here I am.”

Sam took a deep breath. “You know I can't let you go back to him. Not after this.”

“Yeah… It wasn't his fault, really. He didn't know that would happen.”

Something about that sentence really, _really_ rubbed Sam the wrong way. “If it's not his fault, whose fault do you think it is?”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, probably mine. Most things that go wrong are generally my fault. Dad knows what he's doing usually.”

Three sentences. Dean had said three damn sentences and suddenly Sam looked like he was broken inside.

“How about-” Sam’s voice broke and he started over, “How about we blame the people who made the coffee maker?”

“They didn't know-”

“Dean.”

“I guess, sure.”

There was a brief silence, and then the sounds of a scuffle from down the hall.

A loud, booming voice wafted to them through the open door.

" _GODDAMMIT LET ME SEE MY SON!”_


	10. Chapter 10

Sam rose from his seat when John ran into the room. Dean would've done the same, as a show of respect, but he quickly realized that wasn't what Sam was doing.

John took a step towards him and Sam faced him squarely, positioning himself between him and Dean.

“I think you should leave,” Sam said, face set like the commandments in stone.

John halted in his tracks. “What?”

“Dad. Go.”

“No, wha- He’s hurt! And I had to find out when I went back to the room and saw that it was _gone!_ I thought he had died!”

“How unfortunate. When did you go back?”

John threw his arms out to the side, exasperated. “Right before I came here!”

Sam’s hands clenched into fists at his side and would've swung if Dean’s fingers hadn't landed on one gently.

“Sam, it's not his fault.”

Well, that didn't help at all.

“ _HE LOCKED YOU IN THE BATHROOM!”_

John yelled back, “ _I DIDN’T KNOW IT WOULD CATCH FIRE!”_

Sam took a few deep, steadying breaths. “That is not the point. That's not even relevant, really. You can't _trap_ someone in a bathroom for any reason. That's abuse. Plain and simple.”

John scoffed, “That's ridiculous! I would never abu-”

He met Dean’s eyes, and it seemed they both thought back to that same night, when Sam had run away.

**“What happened to you?”**

**“Werewolf.”**

Sam looked back and forth between the two of them, understanding flickering across his face. “No. No. That's it. Get out. Unless you clean up your act you will _never_ see either of us ever again.”

“C’mon, Sam, I'm… I'm your father, you can't just-”

“I can. And I will.”

“Sam-” this time from Dean, “Sam, he… he is our dad…”

Sam looked at Dean. “Later on, you and I will have a lengthy discussion about mental abuse and related topics, but for now, just trust me.”

Dean hesitated, then nodded.

John’s face crumpled. “You're both… you're both kicking me out?”

Sam nodded. “You know, I used to think I got my smarts from you. But now, I really hope it was Mom.”

John sighed, scrubbing a hand over his stubble. “You definitely got your mother’s heart, Sam.”

“Goddammit,” they heard in a soft whisper behind them.

“What?” Sam asked Dean.

Dean seemed as if he didn't know he had said that aloud. “It's… it's a Vonnegut quote. 'Goddammit, you've got to be kind.’”

John said softly, “You read Vonnegut?”

“Yeah, it… makes me feel close to Mom.”

“She loved him…” John looked between his two sons, and something new passed over his face. “It's time for me to go.” He stood there awkwardly for a moment before leaving the room in two strides.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief and sat down again, taking Dean’s hand.

And not that either of them ever knew, but John sat on a bench outside and, for the first time in nineteen years, put his head in his hands and cried like a baby.


	11. Chapter 11

True to their word, the hospital released Dean a few hours later, with the warning to not engage in any physical activities for a week and to keep a close eye on his breathing.

“You hear that, Dean? No sex for a week,” Sam joked, opening the passenger door for Dean.

“Well if I gotta stare at your ugly mug all the way back to Palo Alto then that won't be a problem.”

Sam chuckled and started his rental, taking off down the road. The gentle hum of the blacktop and the not-so-gentle hum of classic rock slowly lulled Dean to sleep.

He didn't need to know that Sam smiled.

They stopped for gas twice. Dean barely registered that they stopped before he slipped off again, utterly exhausted.

Dean awoke in a warm bed that smelled like home. He buried his face in the pillow and inhaled deeply, coughing just slightly. Guest bedroom, he guessed. Never thought Sam would have a house.

He blearily got up and tried to find his way to the kitchen to make some not-Kayak-Sex-Coffee when he heard voices.

“You're kiddin’ me!” Old, gruff. Was that-

“I'm not. He slept the whole way here.”

Dean rounded the corner to see Sam and their surrogate father, Bobby Singer.

Oh, not Sam’s house after all.

“Dean!” Bobby stood up and walked over to him briskly, pulling him into a hug.

Dean returned it immediately, smiling as he said, “Bobby. I missed you.”

“Me too, boy. Sam was just telling me you got caught in a fire? Damn, I'm glad you're okay.”

“Yeah. What else did he say?”

Sam held up his hands, beer bottle in one. “Nothin’. Was gonna let you tell him the good news.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow. “Good news? What, you have a shotgun wedding or something?”

“Um…” Dean looked to Sam worriedly, not sure how Bobby would take the news. Sam gave him a nod and a small smile. “Um, I… I got my GED.”

Dean searched Bobby's face in a panic before Bobby broke out into a large grin. “Well, I'll be damned!” he said, pulling Dean into another bear hug. “Proud of ya, son!”

“I'm proud of you, too,” a soft, sweet voice said behind him. Dean released Bobby and turned around to see a blonde girl standing in the doorway, bottle of champagne in one hand and four glasses held by the stems in the other. “I'm Jessica,” she clarified, walking over, sitting her stuff on the table, and hugging Dean.

Dean laughed and low-whistled. “You are  _ way _ out of my brother’s league.”

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “We told you we had champagne to celebrate. When Sam left to see you, I drove here. So-” she grinned a wicked grin, “- let’s celebrate!”

They drank and laughed deep into the night, listening to all of Sam’s college stories and some of Dean’s escapades. They made sure to keep all talk of monsters gone, though. There was a sweet girl with blonde hair and a large smile that never needed to know.

Once Dean was staggering drunk, Sam led him back to his room. Dean went on and on about how amazing Sam was and how he couldn't wait to go to college and do they have hot showers at college?

Sam laughed good-naturedly and laid him down on his bed, pulling the covers over him and turning out the light. Dean almost instantly fell asleep, but, if he hadn't, he definitely would have snuck back downstairs to listen to the conversation that was going on.

It went something like this:

Sam asked Jessica gently, “Babe, would you mind going to our room? I need to talk to Bobby about something.”

Jessica raised one unimpressed eyebrow.

“It's about John.”

She sighed, then smiled. “Of course, Sam. Take your time.” She gave him a sweet kiss and left.

Sam sat down across from Bobby heavily, grabbing a new beer.

“What about John?” Bobby asked warily.

Sam took a swig and seemed to mull things over in his head. “Dean doesn't need to know I'm telling you this.”

“Go on.”

“He… He got stuck in that fire because John trapped him in the bathroom for saying he wanted to go to college. And then Dad just… left. He didn't show up again until the next day at the hospital.”

Bobby’s eyes were wide and his mouth hung slightly open. “That son of a bitch,” he muttered.

“Exactly,” Sam exhaled, taking another drink. “But at the hospital, he gave up pretty quickly and…” Sam trailed off.

“And you think he's planning something.”

“I can't  _ not _ think that, Bobby.”

They were quiet a moment before Sam sputtered out, “Did Dad abuse Dean?”

Bobby physically recoiled. “No! John would n-” he cut himself off. John had already proven he'd do things they thought he wouldn't. “Maybe? There was that one time after you ran away, where Dean had those bruises-”

“Yeah, he said they were from a werewolf.”

“I can promise you a werewolf wouldn't have done that.”

Sam groaned and put his head in his hands. “Bobby, I need you to keep an ear out in the hunter community. Tell me if John’s on the move. I gotta keep Dean safe.”

“Of course, boy. I'll do my best.”


	12. Chapter 12

Dean wasn't sure what time it was, but it felt like _hours_ since Sam had taken him to bed. He ran one hand over his face and threw back the covers. He just… really didn't feel like staying in bed tonight.

He could talk to Sam? Dean padded out of his room quietly, making his way down the hall to Sam’s room. There was so much to talk about. So much to catch up on. So many questions to ask, too. Questions like:

Did college have hot showers?

What do you even _do_ in college?

How do I get scholarships?

Dean paused for a moment. Shit. How _was_ he supposed to get scholarships? He pushed down the slight panic that had started and began walking again. Sam would know. Sam would help him.

He knocked on the door softly. “Sammy?”

There was a slight shuffling, then Jess opened the door. “Dean.”

Dean’s face grew red, and he missed Jessica’s chuckle. “Um… I… I kinda forgot you two would be… um… nevermind.” He turned on his heel but was stopped by a gentle hand.

“Hey. It's okay. Whatever it is, I'm sure you can ask me.”

Dean worried his bottom lip with his teeth. “I... _appreciate_ you telling Sam to get me to a hospital and… you being there for him n shit but I don't… really know you, Jess.”

Jess regarded Dean thoughtfully. “Can I share a secret with you? Would that help?”

Dean sighed, “Um, sure. Yeah, maybe.”

Jess lowered her voice and spoke in a conspiratorial tone, “I think Sam is planning on proposing. Not anytime soon but… well, we have a dog. And you know what that means.”

Dean raised one eyebrow from where he had leaned in to hear her better. “I do?”

“It means he's subconsciously sizing me up to see how I am as a parent. Dean, I know it'll take some time, but I want to get to know you. You just might be my brother one day.”

Dean couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. “Okay. Alright. I came to talk about college.”

Jess opened the door wider and swung her arm dramatically. “Mi casa es su casa.”

Dean stepped inside. “This ain't tu casa.”

“Ah, ¿hablas español?”

Dean looked around and smiled to himself. Just like Sam had left it. “Not even a little.”

Jess rolled her eyes. “Lies aren't a good way to start a bond with your potential sister.” She pulled up two chairs for them, and both simultaneously sat in theirs backwards.

“You're pretty spunky, aren't you?”

Jess shrugged. “I have my moments. What did you wanna know about college?” She saw the look on Dean’s face and laughed. “Alright dude, pick _one_ question for now.”

“Um… scholarships?”

Jess blinked, then sighed, “Oh man, that's a hard one. Well, basically, if you're smart then the school will pay for you to get an education. Or if you've got a disability.” She paused a moment. “See, this is where we start to be honest, okay?”

“Okay…”

“So, I didn't have the… best home life, you could say. I had really bad depression in high school. Like, really bad. And when I toured Stanford, one of the faculty took notice and we started talking. He eventually told me that if I agreed to go to therapy and genuinely tried to get better, the school would give me a full ride. So I did, and it did.”

“Oh… woah…”

“Yeah. And I've been getting a lot better. It even helped me decide my major. I want to work in mental hospitals, helping patients.”

“That's amazing, Jess. Like, really. That's very noble of you.”

Jess snorted. “It's just what my calling is.”

Dean pursed his lips, and Jess raised an eyebrow. “You wanna ask something, I can tell.”

“What's a major?”

To her credit, she didn't laugh. She merely said, “It's whatever area of study you decide to dedicate your time and life to. Everyone has one.”

“Everyone? How do they know?”

“Know what? Their major? Well see, this big hat is placed on your head and-” Jess could see that her reference was lost on Dean, “You pick it yourself.”

“How?”

Jess shrugged. “What do you enjoy studying most?”

“Umm… I don't think there's… I doubt there's a major for that.”

“There is literally a major for everything.”

Dean huffed out a breath. “Well, Vonnegut. Some Bradbury. Mostly Kurt, though.”

“Contemporary literature.”

“What exactly would that mean? Like, as a... major?”

“It's just studying lit that's written after World War One, basically. If that's what you love, then that's what you should major in.”

Dean absorbed all this information, leaning back a little and just breathing. Jess reached over and took her laptop from the bed, opening it and typing.

“I'm seeing if they could see you about scholarships,” she mumbled as she typed.

“Thank you, Jess.”

She smiled at him briefly. “Hey, anything for my new bro.”

There was a whooshing sound from the speakers. “It sent,” she announced. “I'll let ya know when and what they say. They're really nice people, mostly. They want us all to succeed.”

Dean crossed his arms over the back of the chair, laying his head down on them. “And you would tell me if you didn't really want me to go to college with you guys, right?”

“Yeah, I'd tell you. It's not true, though. I'm really excited for you to come with us.”

Some tension eased out of Dean’s shoulders and he smiled. “Good. I am, too.” He suddenly yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “Gosh, I'm tired. I'm gonna go to bed.”

Jess raised an eyebrow. “It's like, eleven in the morning.”

Dean paused in his stretch. “Damn. I'm gonna make some coffee, then. Want some?”

Jess laughed, setting her laptop aside. “I'd love some.”

They went downstairs and chatted amicably about all sorts of things, and Dean found himself hoping Sammy would propose sooner rather than later.


	13. Chapter 13

They found Sam and Bobby already down at the kitchen table, coffee mugs in hand and chatting about something or another. Dean watched the soft look that passed over Sam’s face as he saw Jessica.

“Good morning, babe,” he said.

She went over and kissed him, stealing his coffee mug while he was distracted. “Good morning.”

“What?” Dean motioned to himself sarcastically. “No good morning for me?”

Sam rolled his eyes and laughed, “Good morning, jerk.”

“Bitch. What are the plans for today?” Dean made himself a cup of coffee and turned back to look at the group.

Bobby shrugged and said gruffly, “I ain't got much for y'all to do, but you're free to stay here as long as you need.”

Jess took a sip of her coffee. “I emailed the financial aid office about Dean so we’ll just see what they say on when we need to be back.”

“Good plan,” Sam told her, reaching for a coffee mug that wasn't there. He furrowed his eyebrows and began searching for it. “Um, where….” He met Jess’s eyes and she winked.

Dean was busy looking out the window. “Why don't we plant a garden or something?”

Sam paused in reclaiming his coffee mug. “A garden?”

“Yeah. This old timer’s always complaining about having to go get groceries so let's just put ‘em outside.”

Sam and Bobby exchanged a look. “Knock yourself out,” Bobby said. “Tools are in the shed. Might have to get seeds.”

Dean turned back around and raised an eyebrow at Bobby. “Nuh-uh. You're helping, too. Ain't no way I'm doing this alone.”

“Um, you're not doing this at all,” Sam told him, going to get himself a new coffee. “Doctor’s orders.”

Dean cursed quietly.

“Hey,” Jess started, “why don't you and I go to the store? We can pick out some already growing plants and just sit them outside. No planting, no manual labor. Just some good old-fashioned shopping.”

Dean flashed her a large grin.

She laughed, “Alright, then. I'll go get ready.”

The moment she was out of earshot, Dean leaned down to talk to Bobby. “Alright, besides veggies n shit, what do you need for spells?”

“Probably some witch hazel, any herb you can find, yew if they got it.”

Dean nodded resolutely. “Done and done. We’ll get everything we can find.”

Bobby raised one eyebrow and snarked, “You're not going in _that_ , are you?”

Dean looked down at his outfit: the shirt he had stolen from Barbara and some jeans. “What's wrong with what I'm wearing?”

“Well, no offense, boy, but you've been wearing that same outfit for two days.”

“Three,” Sam piped in.

“Three days.”

“Well, everything else-…” Dean trailed off, suddenly aware that his entire life had been burned away.

Again.

Sam seemed to understand his unspoken words. “Hey, Dean, look. Borrow some of my clothes for now and you can get new ones while you and Jess are shopping. She's good at picking stuff out.”

Dean nodded. “When you gonna propose to her?” He took a nonchalant drink of coffee as Sam choked on his own.

“I… I uh….”

“Boy, quit teasing your brother and go get ready! Don't keep a woman waiting. Learn some manners, why doncha?” Bobby saved Sam, smiling with no bite to the words.

Dean winked at Sam’s red face before heading upstairs.


	14. Chapter 14

Sam’s clothes fit him fine. Not that he would know it for a long time, but the day was fast approaching when Sam’s clothes would be too big for Dean. For now, though, they fit fine.

Dean got downstairs in time to see Jess plop down across from Bobby, and Sam grab some keys.

“Hey, change of plans. You and I are going shopping while Jess stays here with Bobby,” Sam told him, pocketing the keys.

Dean shrugged. “Works for me.”

The drive to the plant nursery was uneventful for the most part. They chatted about what they had missed out on and shared stories the other hadn't heard. Dean stood on the front of their buggy as Sam pushed, telling him about the ghost case and the ghouls and whatever else.

“So, what made you even decide you wanted to go to college?” Sam asked, picking out some angelica.

Dean was quiet enough that Sam flicked his eyes over. “Well,” Dean began, “you, I guess.”

“Me?”

“I… I understood you leaving Dad but um…” Dean scratched the back of his neck. “Damn, I'm not good with feelings.”

Sam snorted. “Hang out with Jess more. She’ll get you there.”

Dean sighed and finally said, “I never thought you'd leave me.”

Sam’s hand froze on the leaf he was inspecting. “It wasn't like that.”

“At first I wanted to prove to you that I could be smart, too. Like, that maybe then you'd come back.”

“Dean-”

“But at some point, it became more of proving it to myself. That I could do this. And I dunno I just like, I realized you didn't leave me, you left the life and like, you probably missed me and just… I had a panic attack, dude. Like, full-on. And after that I realized that the life we lead? Led? Whatever. It's not okay. It fucks people up. It fucked me up.”

Sam gently sat a pot in their cart. “Dean, I love you. I want you to know that.”

Dean grumbled something about loving him, too.

Sam laughed softly as he asked, “So, what? Are you done hunting? For good?”

Dean looked down, around, up. He sighed, he stretched, he inspected the plants already in the cart.

“Dean.”

“I fucking hate hunting.”

“You? Hate hunting? You're so good at it, though!”

“Always hated it. I wanted a life, Sammy. A real life with friends and a normal job and  _ prom _ and like… Like today, I guess. I wanted a life a lot like today.”

Sam sat a bag of garlic bulbs in their cart. “I'll make sure there are a lot more todays waiting for you out there.”

There was a beat where Sam and Dean just smiled at each other, and then there was a scream.

Gunshot.

More screams.

A glint of metal, a flash of teeth.

“GET ON THE GROUND!”

Dean held his hands in the air and obeyed, Sam following suit.

“DON’T MOVE! IF YOU MOVE I WILL SHOOT YOU BOTH!”

Silence. A lot of silence.

“Why are you doing this?” Soft. Dean. Eyes averted.

“SHUT UP!”

“There's so much more you could be doing, man. Why this?”

Shaking hands, sweaty brow. “They… they told me to.”

“Who told you to?”

Fingers squeezed a trigger.

The man with the gun fell to the ground, twitching. Dean looked up to see Jess, holding a tazer and breathing hard.

She met Sam’s eyes. “You… You forgot your wallet.”

Dean glanced over at the former shooter.

His eyes were burned out.


	15. Chapter 15

It was late when they got back to Bobby’s. The police had tried to detain Jessica for carrying a “modified weapon,” but other people had assured them that the man’s eyes were already burned out. The police chalked it up to meth and took the guy in.

Dean would never forget the way he had seemed to stare directly at him.

When Bobby saw them, he pulled them all into a hug and said, “Goddammit, my heart ain't fit for shit like this.”

Jess headed upstairs, and Dean had to give her credit. The first time  _ he _ had almost been killed, he didn't stop shaking for almost two days. Maybe Jess was just better at hiding it.

“I don't know what happened,” Bobby said. “I looked into all kinds of lore but I can't find anything real that would do that.”

Sam opened a hidden drawer and removed a few books. “Maybe it was some sort of fire spirit. There's legends of them in the-”

“Or maybe it was just some guy on meth.”

Bobby and Sam both looked up to Dean, who was running a hand through his own hair.

“Meth don't burn your eyes out, boy.”

“Look. I'm just saying, we never saw a monster or anything. He never even mentioned one so… why are we getting ourselves involved?”

“It seems you ain't got the choice. The damn whatever-it-was was after you.”

Dean huffed and shoved his hands into his pockets. “It just ain't possible to escape the life, is it?”

Sam placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Hey. Look at me. It's possible. We’ll just… We’ll leave this to Bobby. You and I can have nothing to do with it, if you want.”

Dean nodded curtly.

Footsteps sounded down the stairs, and Jess appeared holding her laptop. “Um, Dean,” she said, not meeting his eyes. Her nose was red and there were fresh tearstains down her cheeks.

Huh. Guess she wasn't doing as okay as she let on.

“Yes, Jess?”

She handed over her computer for him to read an email. “They emailed back. We’ll need to be in Palo Alto tomorrow night so you can interview with the chancellor.” She gave him a soft smile.

“What's a chancellor?”

Sam gently shouldered Dean. “Basically the head honcho at the college. Congrats, dude.”

Dean skimmed over the email quietly. “So this means…?”

“It means they're seriously considering giving you a scholarship, man. We can leave this afternoon to make it by tomorrow night.”

Dean glanced at the waning daylight outside and furrowed his brow. “What… What time is it? It's getting dark out there.”

Sam looked at his watch. “About noon. Was there a storm on the radar, Bobby?”

Bobby shook his head. “Was 'sposed to be clear for days.”

Jess was already headed towards the door. “C’mon, let's bring the plants onto the porch and then go. We’re not letting this stop us.”

Sam followed her. “You sure? It's kinda early.”

She threw a smile back at him. “We can use the time to show him around town. It'll be fun. Now help me, you dork!”

Dean made to help them as well, but they pushed him back inside, admonishing him about exertion and bedrest. He groaned and sat beside Bobby.

“What are you doing?” Dean deadpanned as Bobby opened up a sharpie and began drawing on Dean’s wrist.

“Shut yer yap. It's a protection symbol. Should keep anything from being able to track ya.”

Thunder.

“Oh, okay. Cool.” Dean watched him draw for a minute more. “So like, if I got this as a tattoo-”

“Then nothing could find you, right. Like I said. That's a good idea, actually.”

Dean examined all the weird lines and circles he was drawing. “Looks Gallifreyan.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Nevermind.”

With one final circle, Bobby was done. “It's a magic symbol. Basically it combines with any tracking spell or magic hanging around in the air and makes it useless. It also blocks anyone trying to scry.”

“Nifty.”

Bobby handed him the marker. “Find some way to draw one on Sam and Jessica.”

“Will do. Thanks for everything, Bobby.”

“Anytime.”

The door swung open and a drenched Sam and Jess ran in.

“Dean, we gotta go!” Jess yelled over the sound of thunder.

All three ran upstairs, grabbed their things, and hauled ass out the door. Jess kissed Bobby’s cheek goodbye and the boys each gave him a hug.

Within minutes, they were on the road to Palo Alto, and Dean was “amusing himself” by drawing circles and lines on their wrists.


	16. Chapter 16

Dear God, this was torture.

The fuck was all this pop music?

Was that… oh gosh NO, ANYTHING BUT THAT!

'Oh, bye bye bye! (Bye bye)’

Dean groaned and laid down across the back seats, throwing his arms over his eyes. “If y'all wanted to kill me you shoulda just left me in that fire.”

Sam tutted, “That's not funny, Dean.”

“It’s a little funny,” Dean mumbled from under his arms.

The corner of Sam’s mouth twitched.

“Why don't we let Jess pick the music?” Dean suggested, immediately rethinking his decision by the tension in Sam’s shoulders and the squeal of glee Jess let out.

“That's… not wise.”

“He said I could pick it!” Jess yelled out, popping the glove compartment and pulling out a CD that was just labelled “No.” She popped it in and within seconds, violins started yelping.

“Um… what is this?” Dean asked cautiously.

Jess turned back to look at him, grinning. “Danse Macabre! It's about dancing on graves!”

Dean listened for a few moments more. “Classical?”

“Yesssss!”

Sam met Dean’s eyes in the rearview mirror and Dean burst out laughing, shortly dissolving into a coughing fit. “Whatever. Better than Timberfake and his Frosted Tips Boys,” he said after he composed himself. The violins screeched and he winced. “Maybe.”

“Sam hates it,” Jess remarked, shooting a fake glare at Sam.

“Hey, don't involve me in this. I don't wanna be a fool in this game for two.”

Dean yelled from the back seat, “So I’m leaving you be-hind!”

“I don't wanna maaaaake it tough-”

“But I've had enoughhhh-”

“And it aint-”

“No-”

“Lie-”

“Bye Bye!” The two sang the last line together and dissolved into laughter.

Jessica rolled her eyes and took her CD out. “Uncultured. That's what you guys are.”

It took a few more hours for Dean to convince them to play rock, but once they did he leaned back happily, letting Zeppelin paint their words on his brain.

He wasn't sure when exactly he fell asleep, but it was dark when he woke up. He groaned and stretched, grunting out, “Hey Sammy, let me take a shift.”

There was a soft snort. “Sam’s asleep, you dork.”

Dean blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. “Jess? You're driving?”

“Mhm. If you're wondering, we’re still about eight hours out.”

“Goddamn,” Dean breathed out, running a hand over his stubble. Damn, he needed a shave. “Why am I sleeping so damn much?”

“You're still recovering. Your body is trying to put you in autopilot mode as often as possible to fix you.”

Dean grunted, “Hate it.”

Jess laughed, “Most people do. Gotta happen, though, so maybe you'll stop having those coughing fits.”

Dean covered his mouth, actually right in the middle of one of those. “Ah, fuck this. Isn't there medicine for this or something?”

“There's medicine for everything. But Sam and I talked it over, and we thought you needed to take it easy for a while. So we declined. You'll be fine, it just means you can't go running any marathons.”

“You both hate me.”

“Sam loves you. I, on the other hand, still have plenty of time to decide.”

Dean glanced at her and saw her sarcastic smirk, and smiled himself. “Dick,” he threw her way.

“Ass,” she responded.

His smile stayed there on his face, soft and reflected in the window as he watched the trees fly by.

They stopped for breakfast at some roadside diner a few hours later, and, _finally_ , made it to Palo Alto.

Jess pulled into a parking spot outside a small apartment complex, putting the car in park and heaving a big sigh. “It’s nice to be back,” she said softly.

Dean took it all in. Palm trees, flowering bushes, sand, green all around. He opened his door, smelled the fresh air, and slowly smiled. He had missed this town.

“Sorry the place is kinda… tourist-y looking,” Sam told Dean, getting their things. “The sand 'n' shit was the landlord’s idea.”

“I like it,” Dean remarked absently, rubbing his hand from where Sam had smacked it away from their bags. “Maybe I'll build a sandcastle. Or is that too exertion-y for my royal advisors?”

Jess gently smacked the back of his head. “C’mon. You can at least open the doors for us.”

“Can we lay down some ground rules about smacking me?” Dean said, taking the key and unlocking their door for them.

Jess shrugged, carrying her bag inside. “Don't do or say stupid shit and it won't be a problem.” Something passed over her face that Dean couldn't name. “Sorry, Dean. That was a joke. I’m sorry for smacking your head.”

Dean laughed and pulled her in for a side-hug. “I'm joking. I don't think you could hurt me if you tried.”

“I took down a shooter.”

“A tazer took down the shooter.” Dean smirked and Jess rolled her eyes.

Sam deposited the other two bags on the floor. “I texted Bobby and told him we made it. So, you want the grand tour of the town or what?”

Dean sat on the couch arm. “I mean, I've been here before.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You have?”

“Yeah, Dad and I were here for a few weeks working a case. He never did tell me what it was but yeah. It was about two months back.”

“Oh.”

There was a brief silence, which Jessica broke by saying, “Well, you've got four hours until you meet the chancellor. What do you want to do?”

Dean glanced around their apartment. He eyed the bedroom and bathroom, letting his eyes finally fall on the TV in front of him. “It's lame,” he said hesitantly.

“Oh, look who's becoming self-aware!” Sam teased.

“You're the lamer of us two, you know that, Sammy,” Dean retorted.

Sam and Jess sat on the couch with him.

“Spill,” Jess told Dean.

“Okay,” Dean started, “so we worked that case here.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And I was always busy studying in the daytime for the GED test thing. And then Dad and I went to Arkansas on a ghost hunt that turned ghoul hunt. And _that_ took up all of my time.”

“I see…”

“What I'm getting at here is, um…” Dean trailed off, cleared his throat, and announced, “I am an entire season behind on... my show.

“What show?” Sam asked, eyebrow raised.

“Dr. Sexy.”

Sam groaned at the same time that Jess squealed, “I _LOVE_ DR. SEXY!”

The relief that washed over Dean’s face was clear as day. “Me, too! And it's driving me crazy! I _have_ to know what happens with Nurse Andi and Jorge!”

Jess fanned herself. “Dr. Sexy is just absolute eye candy. It's the hair.”

Dean shook his head, his hand held out in a 'stop’ motion. “No way. It's the cowboy boots.” It took Dean all of half a second to realize what he had said, but by that point Jessica had barrelled right on.

“He doesn't wear cowboy boots! It's a hospital!”

“Yes he does! He SO does! You've just been too damn busy staring at his hair!”

They bickered for a while before they heard the theme song start up. They both looked up to see Sam putting in a DVD.

He raised his eyebrow at both of them. “I know a guy who can record the episodes.” Sam plopped down by Jessica. “Dean, get off the couch arm.”

Dean slid down onto the cushion. “Okay. We have time for four episodes if we fast forward past the commercials. Let's do this!”

A few minutes in, Dean glanced at Sam over Jessica’s hair. Sam noticed the motion and met his eyes.

Not that Dean knew, but his eyes showed every emotion he was feeling. Anxiety, stress… hope.

Sam moved his hand from where it was around Jess to rest on Dean’s cheek firmly and smiled. With his other hand, he made the sign for 'I love you.’

Dean circled one finger in the air, eyebrows raised. 'Always?’

Sam pushed his head gently, and responded the same. 'Always.’


	17. Chapter 17

After a bag of popcorn and a rather heated debate on whether Jameson and Luke were gay for each other or not, Sam was walking Dean to the library before his meeting.

“You sure about this, Dean? The Chancellor’s office may expect you a little early.”

They walked on in the dusk. “Yeah. There's this woman who helped me to even be here and I can't go do anything before I go see her. She said she volunteers at the library sometimes.”

“We could go afterwards?” Sam suggested, obviously feeling a bit pressed for time. “We don't even know if she's there.”

“Sam.”

Sam turned to Dean.

“We’re  _ going _ to see her.”

Sam sighed, nodded, and picked up the pace. “Well, thanks for being honest about what you want to do, anyways. That's a step in the right direction.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Sam began, looking anywhere but Dean, “it always seemed like you were more interested in what Dad told you to do than what you  _ wanted _ to do.” He waited for the explosion.

Dean shrugged. “I was.”

Sam almost stopped walking, and would have if the library wasn't so close now. “Why?”

“You want honesty?”

“Yeah, you're getting pretty good at it.”

“I don't necessarily think I'm worth very much. And I  _ used _ to not think I was worth anything until Babs - the woman I was talking about - asked you if you missed me and told me you said yes. I dunno. It just drilled itself into my noggin that… maybe I'm worth missing, at least.”

Sam opened the door for Dean. “I don't remember anyone asking if I-” Sam cut himself off in realization, all the color draining from his face.

“Hey, there she is!”

Dean raced past Sam, even as Sam tried to grab his shirt and yell, “Wait!”

Within seconds, Dean had Babs wrapped up in a big hug, her making a surprised 'oof’ sound.

“Dean!” she said excitedly as she realized who had hug-attacked her.

He grinned at her widely. “Babs! I did it! I'm here!”

There was heavy breathing beside them as Sam doubled over, catching his breath from sprinting to them. “Dean-” Sam gasped.

Dean turned to him, still smiling. “Sam! This is Babs!”

She smiled softly at Sam. “Hello, Sam Winchester.”

Sam stood ramrod straight, still breathing a bit hard. “Hello, Chancellor Heeren.”


	18. Chapter 18

Dean’s mouth opened and closed. “What?” he asked, turning to Barbara.

Babs seemed nervous. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I was afraid I might intimidate you. I didn't want anything to change.”

Dean ran a hand over the shorter hairs at the back of his neck. “Well… What now?”

She laughed softly. “Now? I believe you have an interview with me, but I also believe that isn't necessary.” Babs pulled out an envelope and handed it to Dean. “I took the liberty of filling out an application for you. Welcome to Stanford, Dean Winchester.”

Dean’s hands shook as he opened the envelope. “The… The Jerry Heeren Scholarship?”

Babs nodded. “It's new. In memory of… well, a lost son. The only contingency is that you have to have tea with me once a week.”

Sam read over his shoulder. “Dean… that's a full ride.”

There was a beat of nothing, where Dean was still trying to process.

It was real. _This_ was real. He could go to college and get a degree and _do something._  He could stay with Sam. He could read books that he wanted to read. He could get a normal job. He… He…

He didn't have to hunt anymore.

The tight hug caught Babs off guard, but not as much as the hot tears that were falling off Dean’s face. “Thank you thank you thank you-” he stuttered into her shoulder.

She hugged him back tightly, her throat feeling hoarse. “Anything, Dean. I'm proud of you. Not everyone can get a GED with Honors.”

He pulled back. “With what?”

“Honors. That's what the plus sign at the end of the text meant. Congratulations plus!”

“I-” Dean’s voice broke, so he cleared it and tried again, “I wasn't the one who read it. My dad did. He said it just said congratulations.”

“I thought he might read it. That's why I tried to be cryptic. I'm sorry. Yes, your GED is decorated with honors.”

Sam gently pulled the paper that Dean was slowly, accidentally crumpling out of his hands.

“You're here now, though!” Babs said, clasping one of Dean’s hands in two of her own. “That means your father took it better than expected? Or you ran away.” She paused. “Do we need to change your name? Kurt would fit you nicely.”

Sam’s eyebrows drew together in confusion while Dean smiled. “Um, uh, no, no. We don't need to change my name. Ha, Kurt Singer, um… um…” Dean stammered on.

Barbara’s eyes softened. “Hey, it's okay. We’ll talk about it later, alright?”

Dean nodded.

“How about you come by my place tomorrow around six? We can have my famous pancakes and some tea.”

“They're famous?”

“I pretend they are, sometimes.”

Dean laughed and pulled her in for a hug again, whispering, “Thank you.”

“You're absolutely welcome,” she whispered back.

The shaky breath he took in knocked loose a coughing fit and he had to pull back.

Babs’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Dean, are you okay?”

Not that Dean ever knew, but Sam saw it. The first look on Dean’s face that said he wasn't okay. He was pretending.

“Later,” Dean whispered hoarsely.

Babs nodded. “As much as I would like to continue this conversation, Dean, I feel like you need to rest for a while. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Half of Dean’s mouth lifted up in a smile. “Okay.”

“Sam,” Babs nodded to Sam.

“Chancellor Heeren,” Sam nodded back.

He took Dean’s arm and led him out of the library, still holding the slightly wrinkled letter that said Dean was good enough.

“I did it,” Dean whispered in awe.

Sam smiled at him. “You did it.”

Dean looked around, saw no one, and let out a loud, “WHOOP!”

Sam laughed, and yelled out, “WOOOOHOOOOOO!”

“YEEEEEEHAAWWWW!”

“HIP HIP HOORAAAYYYYY!”

They both laughed, and Dean broke out into coughs.

“Okay okay, let's get you back, grandpa,” Sam teased.

Dean let Sam help him up from where he had doubled over. “I can kick your ass any day!” He coughed some more.

“Sure you can, Dean. Sure you can.”


	19. Chapter 19

It wasn't even seven by the time they got back to the apartment. Jess was just laying down a rug when they walked in.

“Hey,” she said, straightening and popping her back. “That was quick.”

“Dean is apparently best friends with the chancellor,” Sam smirked.

Dean shrugged. “She's more like a second mom or something.”

Jess nodded, scooting a table a bit. “Yeah, Chancellor Heeren is pretty cool. I talk to her sometimes between classes. How did you meet her?”

“She's the one that helped me get my GED!”

“That was nice of her!”

“And get this,” Sam said, holding out the paper, “Dean got a full ride. AND got honors!”

“Damn,” Jess said, reading over the paper. “Shoulda saved that champagne!”

“We may have more,” Sam thought aloud, going to rummage through their cabinets.

“Hey, Sam?” Dean half-yelled.

“Huh?” Sam yelled back, moving bottles around.

“Can I borrow your phone to call Bobby? I feel like maybe he'd wanna know.”

“ 'S on the ottoman! Ha, found some!”

Sam busied himself with pouring three glasses while Dean dialed the familiar number.

“Sam, glad ya called me! I've got news on John.”

Dean paused, mentally debating on whether or not to make himself known.

He didn't.

“Hm?” he grunted, trying to sound like every man on the planet. He walked into a separate room and shut the door behind him.

“He's been hanging around the Roadhouse. Ellen called me the moment she saw him. Said he's been hounding hunters looking for a new partner.”

_C’mon, Dean, you can do this. You didn't spend ten years making fun of Sammy for nothing._

“Partner?” Dean asked in a close copy of Sam’s voice.

“Yeah, for hunting.”

“That was quick.”

“Lucky us. Maybe we don't have to worry about him coming back after Dean after all. I'd still keep an eye out, though. We don't know what John will try to pull.”

Dean felt the blood leave his face. “He's coming after me?” Dean whispered.

“... _Dean?_ ”

Dean hung up the phone immediately, turning back around and opening the door again.

Or he would have, if it wasn't locked.

“Sam?” Dean jiggled the doorknob. “Sam!” He pounded on the door, flashes of fire and smoke and he was coughing and he couldn't breathe and smoke everywhere and where was Dad where was Da-

“Woah woah woah, Dean. Dean! Look at me!”

He turned his face up to Sam, who was holding him upright with an extremely worried expression. “Are you okay?”

“The… the door was locked…”

“Yeah it… it locks behind us sometimes. We should've warned you.”

“I think… I think I just need to sleep.”

Sam nodded. “Okay, that sounds alright. We’ll get the couch all set up for you for now. It's a pull-out.”

Dean shook his head. “I'm going over to Barbara’s. I'll see you in the morning.” He didn't wait for Sam’s reply before he was speed-walking out and away.

It took almost thirty minutes to walk to her house. He pressed her door bell and waited patiently, hands stuffed deep in his pockets.

The door opened. “Dean? Are you okay?”

He smiled at her. “Not even a little.”

“Well, come in. I'll put on some tea.”

Dean stepped inside and toed off his shoes, absorbing the feeling of being inside a _home._  “I don't want to intrude.”

“Nonsense. Get your butt in here and tell me what's going on.”

Dean sat at the small table and waited patiently for tea. “I was caught in a fire.”

“Oh, dear. What happened?”

“Dad found out that I wanted to go to college and locked me in the bathroom. The room caught fire. He was gone.” He was minutely aware that there were no more clinks of silverware. “Sam found me by pure luck. Brought me to a friend's. We almost got shot. We came here. And here I am.”

Babs silently sat a cup of tea in front of him. He took a sip.

“And now it turns out my dad might still be coming for me. And I don't know what to do. How could he-... He just _locked me_ in a _bathroom._  That's not okay. Right?” He looked up at Babs, eyes praying she would agree.

“Of course it's not okay, Dean. I'm so sorry that happened.” She sat opposite him with some tea of her own. “I imagine that was very traumatic.”

“Sam’s door was locked and I freaked out really bad.”

“Hmm, you may have developed very acute PTSD. Only time will tell.”

Dean groaned and sat his forehead on the table. “Is it wrong of me to wish he would just stay away?”

“Why would that be wrong of you?”

“He's… he's my dad. He raised me. He's done everything he's ever done for me and Sammy. He deserves better than me wanting him gone.”

Babs rested a small hand on his forearm. “Dean, look at me. You do not owe your family anything. If they are toxic, cut them out.”

“But… they're _family_. He's all I have.”

“No, you have Sam and that little girlfriend of his. Jess?”

“Jess.”

“Sam and Jess. And you have me. And a scholarship. And the friend that took you in. And I know you'll meet more people as time goes on.”

Dean shook his head. “I can't just cut my family out. Not now. Maybe not ever.”

“Then just let him do his own thing. But please, do not get involved. Not again. You almost died because of him. Can you at least try and promise me that?”

“I'll try.”

They both sipped tea in silence.

“Can I stay here tonight?” Dean finally asked.

“Of course, Dean. Anytime.”

“Thank you.”

They finished their tea and Dean headed to bed, a little too exhausted for a shower. He sat in Jerry’s bedroom, looking around.

“You here?” he said softly, trying not to let Babs know.

No sign.

“I just… wanted to say thanks. I know you're looking out for her. I am, too. Or, I want to, anyways. She's a hell of a woman. I'll do the best I can to keep her safe.”

Ah, there he was. There was a small frown and a very serious expression on Jerry’s face. He sat beside Dean and held out a pinky finger.

“I swear,” Dean responded, looping his pinky through Jerry's.

Damn, that's cold.

Jerry gave him a small smile and slowly disappeared in a bright ray of light.

As quick as he had arrived, he was gone.

Dean laid back and repeated to the now - and forevermore - unhearing air, “I swear.”


	20. Chapter 20

There was a deep peace in waking up on his own. No alarms, no angry father, just the soft sound of raindrops outside and the hum of a radio far away. Soft swing floated through the air as Dean turned and hauled the covers up closer to his face, breathing in deeply.

As he exhaled, coughing slightly, he opened his eyes to a shelf of books.

There were very few, as if they were meticulously picked and sat there with distinction. Dean had the feeling they were.

He reached out one arm and brushed his fingers over the bindings, reading titles until one caught his eyes.

“ _A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy,_ ” he mumbled aloud, pulling it out deftly. There was an image of a green planet giving a thumbs-up on the cover. With a little hesitation, he put it back and got out of bed, scrounging up some plaid pants and a blue shirt. Unaware of his unruly bedhead and desperate need for a shave, he followed the sound of swing.

Babs was sitting in the living room with an old record player turning away. In one hand was tea, and the other a book. She glanced up as Dean entered and smiled. “Good morning,” she said.

“Good morning,” Dean responded, taking a chair by the big bookshelf. “What are your plans for today?”

Babs stuck a knitted bookmark in her spot and shut her book. “I have a Summer I class to teach at noon, after that probably go help at the library for a while.”

“You teach classes? Aren't you like, the head honcho?”

Babs laughed good-naturedly. “I still have that love of teaching in me. Can't quite seem to get rid of it.”

Dean nodded and began absently browsing the bookshelf. “I think I know what I wanna major in,” he told her, fingers stopping over a very dusty copy of _The Great Gatsby._  He tried not to think about that and moved on.

“That so? What did you decide on?”

“Contemporary literature,” Dean announced, pulling down _The Odyssey._ “Oh nice, this is the actual poem version. These are hard to come by.”

“I know, it took me forever to find it.” She clapped her hands together. “Contemporary lit! That's wonderful, Dean! I think you'll be very happy with that major. In fact, I'm teaching one of those classes today. Would you like to sit in, get a feel for what it would be like?”

Dean’s head snapped up from where he was reading the opening song. “Yes!”

Babs chuckled at his enthusiasm.

After a nice breakfast and a brief walk to the college, Dean was settled into a chair at the front of the lecture hall. He had seriously considered the back, but this way he couldn't be intimidated by anyone's stares. He could just pretend it was him and Babs.

Another boy settled in beside him. “I 'aven’t seen you here b’fore,” he said with a thick Cockney accent.

“Um, no. I'm just sitting in today. Trying to see what college is like.”

“Ah, I see. 'M Reggie. An’ you?”

“Dean.”

“Nice ta meet ya. I'm contemp’ lit wi’ an emphasis in satire an’ a minor in French.”

“What's an emphasis? And a minor?”

“Bloo’y hell! Do ya not know anythin'?”

Dean retreated as far in his seat as he could.

“Really! Wha’ are ya even doin’ at uni?”

“Reginald!” Dean’s eyes snapped up to see fire in Barbara’s eyes. “Switch places with Mr. Duncan, please.”

Reggie hunched his shoulders and picked up his backpack, slowly slinking away to be replaced by a timid boy a little older than Dean.

Neither said anything for a bit. Finally, the other boy opened his mouth, “I guess Reggie was being a dick?”

Dean snorted. “You could say that.”

“He's like that sometimes.”

“You know him?”

“A bit. He's a transfer student. I'm not, but my whole family is German so… I dunno. I thought I could make friends with him to help him adjust.”

“Hm. Dean,” Dean said, sticking a hand out.

“James,” James responded, accepting the proffered hand. “We still have five minutes before the lecture begins.”

Dean pursed his lips and nodded. “Cool.”

James snorted. “You're new, huh?”

“I'm not… really attending classes yet. I just got accepted.”

“Ah, I see. Scoping out the new territory.”

“Something like that.”

James pulled out some paper and put half of it on Dean’s desk, along with a pencil. “Well, if you have any questions, feel free to ask me. I’m the first in my family to go to college so I know what it's like to feel out of place.”

“Thank you. My brother goes here but… yeah. First generation, I guess.”

“Yeah? Who's your brother?”

“Um, Sam Winchester.”

James shrugged. “Sorry, don't know him. I'm sure he’s a swell guy, though.”

Dean laughed. “The best, actually.”

Barbara cleared her throat and the room settled down.

“Good morning, class. Today we will be talking about a few of our readings, but, first, I’d like to introduce to you all Dean Winchester. He's new here, so if you see him, stop him and say hi. Moving on, we’ll start with some lecture today and move on to open discussion-” Babs continued on, talking about books Dean had never read, but he wrote down the titles, and the author’s name when she mentioned it. He found himself doodling as he listened, drawing gravestones all over the margins of the paper. Inscribed, 'Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt.’

“-uestion, in Vonnegut’s _Cat’s Cradle_ -” Dean’s eyes glanced up at hearing a book he knew, “he uses the cradle as a symbol. Vonnegut usually outright tells us what his symbols are, but in this book, he does not. Open discussion topic for today is: What does the cat’s cradle represent?”

Dean frowned and glanced back down at his paper. He listened to answers as he doodled over the gravestones. Two hands and some string.

“-cellent suggestion, Rory. Any others? Since he never explained it, it is entirely open to interpretation.”

Dean glanced up and kinda wished he hadn't. Barbara was looking at him, eyebrows raised. She wanted him to throw out a suggestion, even a bad one. She wanted him to be involved.

Dean sighed. Alright. He could do this. For Barbara.

He raised his hand tentatively.

She smiled a large smile at him. “Yes, Dean? What do you think?”

Dean was glad now he had chosen the front row. “Um… it's… To me, it was always like, the, the lies people tell themselves, ya know? To like, um, feel better.”

Barbara’s eyes sparkled as she grinned even wider. The class was silent, though, and Dean felt his face heat up. Shit shit shit, he had just said something totally stupid he knew it he was stupid and now everyone was gonna laugh and-

“Tha’ was goddamn bloody brilliant!” Reggie's voice sounded from far behind him.

Barbara shot Reggie a warning look even as there were soft murmurs of agreement. Dean glanced over to the only other student he could see - James. James nodded encouragingly, laid a hand over Dean’s hand, and squeezed gently.

Wait, was this normal? Should he do something back? Was this totally weird? He didn't… It felt kinda… nice?

So in a moment of absolute bravery and fuck-John, he squeezed James's hand back.

James removed his hand and presumably wrote down Dean’s interpretation in his notes. Dean couldn't bring himself to move his own hand because it tingled just a little and _hoo boy he was not ready for_ **_that_**.

The discussion went on for a little while until class ended. Dean stayed in his seat as students began filing out, but Babs smiled and crinkled her nose at him, motioning for him to go meet some of his classmates.

He walked out beside James.

They were the last two out, presumably the only two that didn't have class afterwards, since the breezeway was empty.

“Nice insight, dude. I don’t think you have anything to worry about with classes,” James said, turning to Dean and putting a hand on his shoulder.

Was Dean sweating he felt like he was sweating…

“I'm still worried,” Dean mumbled, acutely aware of how warm his ears felt.

James put both hands on Dean’s cheeks, all encouraging smiles. “You got this, man.”

And fuck Dean panicked because his face was close and everything was suddenly confusing but he thought he knew what you were supposed to do when someone holds your face so he did that thing.

James’s surprised squeak was covered by Dean’s lips pressed against his.

Dean pulled back quickly, cheeks flaming as James stared at him, slack-jawed.

Dean misread that. Dean seriously misread that fuck fuck fuck fuck-

James saw the look on his face and chuckled slightly. “Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm an affectionate person. I platonically kiss people all the time. You're okay.” He squished Dean’s cheeks playfully. “No weird feelings, I promise.”

Dean let out a sigh of relief. “God I'm so sorry, I just-... Yeah. I got confused.”

James gave him a timid smile. “If you wanna kiss me platonically sometimes, it's okay. If I'm being honest, it makes me feel wanted.”

“O-... Okay…”

A phone rang from Dean’s pocket, breaking the moment. Dean’s eyebrows furrowed together. His cell phone had burned, so what-...?

Dammit.

He had accidentally stolen Sammy’s phone.

He pulled it out and flipped it open. “Heyyyy,” he said as charmingly as he could.

“Heya, Dean.”

Jess.

“Hey Jess. Listen, I didn't mean to-”

“Yeah, we know. Just like… bring it back by at some point today?”

“Of course.”

“Okie dokie. See ya then.”

“Bye.”

Dean flicked the phone shut and turned to James. “I um… I gotta go return this.”

James raised one eyebrow. “What? Did you steal a phone?”

Dean winced. “Kinda?”

James laughed a little and asked, “Do you want me to walk with you?”

Oh, good question. Did he?

“Um… wait here. I gotta go tell Ba-... Chancellor Heeren where I'm going, then I'll have your answer.”

James nodded at him even as Dean strode back into the classroom. Babs was packing her papers into a shoulder bag, stopping and looking up when she heard the door open.

“Hello, Dean,” she said, smiling.

Her smile was a little bit contagious. Just a little. “Hiya.”

“Did you make some friends?”

“Um, maybe? I think so. I also kinda accidentally stole Sammy’s phone so…”

“Ah, you need to return that.”

“I am, I am. I just wanted to…” Dean trailed off. He just wanted to let her know where he was going to be. Was that… was that weird?

Barbara's eyes softened. “You just wanted to make sure I wouldn't worry. It's okay, Dean. Thank you for telling me. You _are_ an adult, though. If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to.”

Dean looked around the classroom, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I...want...to…”

“Okay. Then thank you.” She walked over and gently shouldered him. “Now go on, return your stolen items and have fun with your friend.”

He smiled at her and turned to leave, stopping only when she called out, “Oh, and Dean?” He turned to look at her. “You did wonderful today.”


	21. Chapter 21

Dean walked back to Sam and Jess’s apartment with James, talking amicably about anything and everything. Dean learned that James had lived in America since he was born, but only just. His parents had moved here only two days before he popped out.

Dean told him about the house fire when he was four and all about Sam, because Sam was easier to talk about. James didn’t push the topic. He laughed when Dean told him that Sam used to say “Bean” instead of “Dean,” and he smiled sadly when Dean talked about Sam leaving after all that time.

“But it was for the best,” James offered.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, for the best.”

They made it to the apartment, and Dean hesitated. Should he-...?

 _Fuck it_ , Dean decided, and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to James’s lips. James gave one back and grinned wide at him.

“See ya around, Bean,” James teased, saluting mockingly.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Get outta here, you dork.”

He heard James laugh as he retreated and smiled a little, even as he opened the apartment door.

He realized very quickly he should've knocked.

“Oh for the love of-” Dean started, covering his eyes. “Put some clothes on!”

A stream of apologies flooded forward from Sam and Jess’s mouths, and there was the distinct shuffle of clothes being found.

“We… We’re not used to anyone living with us,” Sam stuttered.

“Yeah yeah shut your piehole, can I look yet?”

A little more shuffling.

“Okay,” Jess said, “you can look now.”

Dean uncovered his eyes and raised one eyebrow. “Shirt’s on backwards.”

Jess looked down and said “fuck” under her breath.

Dean held out Sam’s phone, unfazed. “Sorry I stole this.” He handed it over and made to leave the apartment, but Sam interrupted him.

“Wait.”

Dean paused, hand on the doorknob.

“Wanna tell me what exactly happened?”

Dean observed the way the muscles in his hands tensed. “Not really.”

“Dean,” a softer voice intoned, a small hand laying on his shoulder.

It was kind of out-of-body, Dean thought to himself. It was like he was observing himself from a third-person perspective. He noticed the way his shoulders hunched, his eyes closed, his free hand laid on the doorframe. “That hand was just on a naked Sam. Don't touch me with it until you wash it.”

Jess removed her hand. “What happened? You were fine and suddenly… you weren't.”

“I went to class today,” Dean changed the subject immediately.

“Dean-” Sam started to admonish, but Dean barrelled on.

“And last night I stayed at Babs’s and we talked about stuff. She made tea. I like tea. And she likes records and swing.”

“Dean-”

“And the ghost of her dead son has been watching over her but that's my job now so he left. And an asshole in class implied I shouldn't even be at college.”

“Hon-”

“And I kissed a guy today. Twice. It didn't mean anything, though. He's just affectionate.”

“If you're trying to make us mad it won’t-”

“And when I called Bobby, he said he was glad that I called because he thought I was you and he said he had news on John.”

Silence. Another outside observation: Dean’s hands were shaking. They reminded him of trying to write notes on cases on gravel roads, Impala bouncing and letters coming out jagged.

“And I used to imitate you all the time so I didn't tell him it was me and he said Dad is looking for another partner already and that he still might be coming back after me.”

He watched his fist clench against the door, was almost shocked as he felt a single hot tear hit his arm.

“And I'm terrified,” he choked out. Then he cleared his throat and finally turned to face them. “That's been my day. That's all we have to talk about. I’m sorry I stole your phone. I'm sorry I came in unannounced. I'll go look for my own place now.”

Two sets of gentle arms took him in, petted his hair, wrapped him up in warmth, told him he was wanted. Soft hands wiped away his tears and soft voices told him no, don't get your own place, not yet. _Stay, please,_ they told him. _Stay until you're okay. Stay as long as you want. We love you. Dean, we love you, we love you, we love you._

Dean shuddered at all the things he felt he didn't deserve.

_We won't let John get you._

‘What exactly can you even do to stop it?’ Dean thought.

_We will take care of you._

'I’m just another burden for you.’

_Stay with us._

…

_We love you. We love you. We love you._

Dean covered his face with his hands.

“Dean?” Jess asked, running her hand soothingly through his hair.

“I don't deserve this,” he told them.

“Don't deserve what?” Jess asked. “Love? Kindness? Basic human decency?”

He met her eyes, and she winced.

“Ah. All of the above,” she said.

“What do you think you deserve then?” Sam asked, arms wrapped tight around him.

Dean looked around at the living room, eyes landing on the couch where he ruined sexy times, his bag laying by the wall, the bottle of champagne untouched on the counter.

“Dad.”


	22. Chapter 22

Dean was in the backseat of Sammy’s car, grumbling to himself as Jessica drove, white-knuckled.

“Jessica, this is really-” Dean began, only to be cut off by the sharp, fiery glare she sent him in the rearview mirror. He gulped and shrank into his seat.

It was silent until she parked in front of a house, not even music playing.

“Out,” she commanded, slamming her door and causing both Sam and Dean to flinch. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

They followed her out as she stamped up to the house and knocked harshly. The door opened almost immediately, revealing a very disheveled man with his glasses askew.

“Jessica!” he announced, straightening his glasses.

“Professor Lumley,” she exhaled in relief. “Did you get my email?”

“Of course, of course. Come in,” he replied, gesturing into his house.

The entire place was filled with knick-knacks. Drying herbs hung from the ceiling, and every cranny was stuffed with plants.

Professor Lumley held his hand out to Dean. “I've already met Sam, so you must be Dean.”

Dean shook his hand waringly. “Who are you, exactly?”

“Ernest Lumley, resident psycho-analyst.”

“Wait, you're a therapist?”

Ernest shrugged. “Not entirely. I can tell you what's wrong and how you might fix it, but that's about as far as I can go.”

Dean rounded on Jessica. “You brought me to a _shrink_?”

Her glare tore all the rage out of him. “Talk to him. Tell him the truth, too. Because I'm more than a little worried about your self-destructive thoughts.”

He had the decency to look sheepish, and Jess said softly, “You're not in trouble, Dean. But this can't go on any longer.”

Ernest tried, “Ah, self-destructive? At least you're not suicidal, huh?” The smile fell off his face almost exactly as Dean grew unnaturally pale. “Oh dear. Follow me.” Ernest turned to Sam and Jess, who were also unnaturally pale now. “We… may be a while. I can call you when we’re done.”

Sam didn't miss the way Dean’s hand twitched out, almost like he wanted to grasp onto his sleeve and hold him here.

“It'll be okay,” Sam told him, wrapping him up in a hug. This time, Dean did cling mercilessly to Sam’s shirt. “It'll make things better in the long run.”

Dean winced, opened his mouth to tell Sam he didn't want to be alone anymore, then shut it instead.

“Hey, Professor Lumley?” Jess asked. “Could Baxter sit in with him?”

Ernest smiled wide. “Yes! Wonderful suggestion! He's been a dream, by the way. Well on his way to becoming the very next in a long line of doggie therapists.” Ernest walked over and opened a door, and a small puppy ran out, tripping over its own ears.

“Dean,” Jess began, “this is our dog, Baxter. We had the Prof keep him while we were gone, and then we wanted to give you a few days to settle in.”

Dean hesitantly released Sam’s shirt with one hand, leaning down to pet the enthusiastic dog. “Basset hound?”

“Eh, mostly,” Sam said, smiling softly as Dean completely released him in favor of the dog. “He loves being held.”

Dean paused a moment, then picked up Baxter and held him tight to his chest.

Ernest put a hand on Dean’s shoulder gently. “Are you ready?”

Dean clutched Baxter tighter, eyes wide in fear. There was a whimper, then Dean felt a lick on his chin. It broke his train of thought and he looked down at the very happy puppy. “I'm… I'm ready, I think.”

He gave Sam and Jess one last, long look before following Ernest deep into the house.

Dean missed it, but the moment he was out of earshot, Sam let out a shuddering breath, held a hand to his mouth, looked to Jess, and said one word.

“S-... Suicidal?”


	23. Chapter 23

Something was very curious about this house.

It seemed that every door they went through led to more doors, and it continued to stretch on forever. The house was _not_ this big from the outside, Dean was sure.

Ernest glanced back at Dean and smiled a little, opening another door that led to an aviary. “I um… I know your father.” Birds chirped all around them. Ernest saw the look on Dean’s face and hastily reassured, “I never liked him, though. He is so damn determined to fix problems and to hell with anything else.”

Baxter was asleep in Dean’s arms by this point. “How do you know him?”

Ernest ducked from a parrot attempting to land on his head. “Damn birds… Um, well, I was a hunter. So, you know,” he turned to Dean, “you can tell me the truth. I've seen it all, anyways.”

“You? A hunter?”

“Yep. But then the life started to get to me. I researched what I was feeling, what others were feeling, and… I got out. Here I am.”

The next room was a giant library, stretching up as far as Dean could see. “How…?”

“If you're asking how I got out, the answer is a shit ton of spells. If you're asking how I got my house to be virtually endless, then… well. A shit ton of spells.”

Dean stopped in his tracks. “Are you… Are you a witch?”

Ernest snorted. “Not even close.”

Dean tilted his head and picked up walking again. “How does that work, exactly?”

“Easy. I'm not doing anything bad. If I do something bad, feel free to come by and kill me.”

They stopped in the next room, a kind of greenhouse. “Here, or the library?” Ernest asked.

“Um, neither?”

“Gotta pick one, sport. In the library we’ll file books, and here we’ll pot plants.”

“Library, then, I guess.”

They headed back, and Dean laid Baxter gently on a plush chair.

Ernest nodded to the dog as they walked up a flight of stairs. “If you feel you need him, just go get him. Anytime.” He stopped suddenly. “Ah, I feel this goes without saying but um, just because I'm Jessica’s mentor does not mean she knows about… all of this. Let's keep it that way, alright?”

Dean nodded, and they made their way to the fourth level. There were a few cardboard boxes at one end of the curved platform.

Ernest opened one of them. “These are the W’s,” he told Dean. “This is the fiction library, so no Dewey Decimal. Just put them where they go.”

As much as Dean hated to ask, he did. “Aren't we supposed to be, like, pulling my mind apart?”

Ernest handed him a stack of books. “We are. But this gives you something to focus on besides your total and utter despair.”

“Um.”

“Follow me.” Ernest led him to one specific shelf on the line of them. “Most of them should be around this area. What brings you to Palo Alto?”

Dean checked a binding and slid a book between two others. “I'm going to Stanford soon.”

“That so? Have you decided on a major yet?”

“Contemporary literature,” Dean responded, putting away another volume.

“Very nice. You're the one Babs took under her wing, right?”

“Yes.”

“She's a wonderful lady. What makes her especially wonderful is how big her heart is, especially for broken people.” Ernest paused, going to drag the box of books closer. “Are you a broken person, Dean Winchester?”

“Yes.” It slipped out of his mouth before he could think about it.

“What do you think makes you a broken person, exactly?”

“I fuck up everything,” Dean said. He halted his book halfway into the shelf. “I can't lie.” It was an observation, not a question.

“Not in here nor the greenhouse. Shit ton of spells, remember? Neither of us can. Tell me about John.”

Dean flinched. “I'm scared of him.”

“Why are you scared of him?”

“He almost killed me.”

“On purpose?”

“I don't… I don't think so.”

“Why don't you think so?”

“He's my father.”

“And fathers never kill their sons?”

Dean gritted his teeth. “He cares about me.”

“Okay, Dean. It's okay. Calm down. No one here is judging you.”

“Okay…” Dean picked up another stack of books, working slower now.

“How did he almost kill you?”

“He locked me in a bathroom and left. A fire started.”

“Anything else?”

He wanted to talk about how Sam saved him, but what came out was, “He used me for bait.”

“What monster?”

“Skinwalker. Others.”

“How old were you?”

“Twenty.” Twitch. “Nineteen.” Flinch. “Fifteen. Thirteen. Twelve. Ten. Eight. Six. Five.”

“Five?”

“Five. Wendigo. Clutching the damn flashlight because guns were pointless.”

“Tell me more.”

“When Sammy ran away.” No, _no._  He didn't want to talk about-

“What happened?”

“Beat me within an inch of my life.” Oh, please, don't-

“And Sam didn't notice?”

“Waited until after the next hunt.” Shut up shut up _shut up_

“So Sam wouldn't think it was him.” Observation, not question.

Dean grabbed more books shakily.

“So was _that_ one his fault, then?”

Immediately, “No.”

“How was it not? Wasn't it his fists?”

“Yes.”

“His words?”

“Yes.”

“So his fault.”

“No.”

“Was he possessed?”

“No.”

“Then help me understand, Dean. Whose fault was it?”

“Mine.” That book was in the wrong place. And that one. God damn it.

“How was it your fault, Dean?”

“I was supposed to be watching. I wasn't, and Sam got away, and he could've been hurt.”

“But you _were_ hurt.”

“I deserved it.”

“You deserve to be hurt?”

“Yes.” Anywhere but him, God, look anywhere but _him._

“Why?”

“Because… Because… it's all my fault. Everything. Everything is always my fault. I could've done something different and things would've been okay but I was stupid and I didn't and I couldn't-”

“Dean.”

Silence.

“Do you think your mother's death was your fault?”

Dean flinched. “Yes.”

“How?”

“I could've stayed with Sam that night, or brought him into my room, or made Mom stay up with me, or-”

“Was it not Sam’s fault?”

Dean reeled back, finally turning to look at Ernest. “No!”

“Why not?”

“He was a _baby!”_

“So were you, Dean.”

“I was _four_.”

“Which is still a baby. If you can't fault Sam, how can you fault yourself?”

Dean didn't reply, and instead shoved a few more books in the shelf.

“Do you think you deserve anything good, Dean?”

“ _I don't deserve a goddamn thing!"_  Dean finally yelled, pulling a few books off the shelf in anger. “Why is that so damn hard to get through everyone's heads?! I'm _nothing!_ I'm _worthless!_ There's only one fucking thing I _might_ say I deserve and that's it!”

“So what do you deserve, then?”

Dean’s chest heaved. “Death.”

“But what do you _want_?”

“What I want?” The books were blurry and watery now. “To be okay,” the spell finally tugged from his lips.

“Does Sam deserve whatever he wants?”

The sudden swerve of topics made Dean look over at Ernest again. “Of course. All that and more.”

“And Jess?”

“Anything she wants.”

“Bobby Singer?”

“Absolutely.”

“Ellen Harvelle.”

“I don't really know her, but, yes.”

“Me?”

Dean looked around. “I think you already have everything you want.”

Ernest laughed a little. “That's true. But you think that Ellen, a complete stranger, deserves what she wants. So why don't you?”

“I already said, I fuck things up.”

Ernest shrugged. “Ellen’s husband is dead.”

“I-”

“Bobby killed his wife.”

Dean went wide-eyed. “What?”

“She was possessed by a demon, and we didn't know then what we know now. It still haunts him.”

Dean was slack-jawed.

“Bobby fucked up,” Ernest said bluntly.

“He didn't… He didn't know…”

“Just like a four year old doesn't know, huh?”

Dean closed his mouth.

“Bobby fucked up, like you claim you did. And yet he still deserves everything, doesn't he?”

Dean nodded, not able to form words anymore.

“Then by your own logic, Dean, you deserve everything as well.”

“I'm… I'm a burden,” Dean whispered, the world going blurry again.

“Didn't you raise Sam?”

“I… yes.”

“Was he a burden?”

“No, never. Not even… not even when he was being annoying.”

“Apply that to yourself, Dean.”

Dean pushed his hand through his hair, breathing shakily. Ernest laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Let's try again, okay? Dean Winchester, what do you deserve?”

“To… to… to be okay?”

“Do you believe that?”

“A li-… a little.”

“It'll take a while. These things don't happen overnight. It might be months, might be years. But Dean, remember what we talked about, okay?”

“It makes me feel dizzy…”

“What? To think about being okay?”

“...Yes.”

“Well… when you think about wanting to be okay, think about wanting Bobby to be okay. And Sam. And Jess. And then realize that the only thing all these people have in common is that they're human. And you know what?”

“What?”

“So are you.”

Dean sniffed and roughly wiped at his eyes. “I wanna go hold the dog now.”

Ernest’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Be my guest.”


	24. Chapter 24

Ernest wasn't kidding.

Months had passed, and Dean didn't feel that he was improving at all.

That, of course, wasn't true, but Dean couldn't see that. He simply saw that his worries were transferred from his Dad to his studies because _fuck_ college was hard.

He’d be lying if he said he never wondered if he made the right decision.

On terrible days, though, he walked around with James or went to read books with Barbara and things didn't feel quite so… catatonic.

James was… well, James was James. He was loving and affectionate and attentive, and they would usually walk hand in hand. Dean could remember the exact day, actually. They came out of the movie theater and it was actually cold for once. James huddled up to Dean, and Dean looked into those big brown eyes as the nearby neon light settled on his lashes, and he realized just how absolutely done-for he was.

Because now his heart fluttered a little when he saw James and _dammit_ that was not manly at all!

So really, it shouldn't have surprised Dean so much what happened just a few days before Christmas.

Sam, Jess, and Dean were decorating a Christmas tree. An _actual_ Christmas tree. They had gone to a farm and cut it down like lumberjacks. Like heathens. Like… like… well dammit, like a family.

Eggnog was flowing freely and, no matter how much Dean said it was an awful drink, he still had enough in his system to render him rosy-cheeked and giggly.

“Deeeeeee,” Jess whined, pulling ornaments off the tree. “You gotta mix up the colors!”

“Nonono,” Dean responded, moving a green ornament to the top with the other green ornaments. “It looks good like this.”

Sam laughed from behind them, passing out ornaments. “Dean, quit color-coordinating our tree!”

Dean looked back at Sam, pouting. “It looks good like this,” he repeated.

Jess pushed him towards the door. “Go get your boyfriend and let _us_ decorate!”

Dean frowned. “Don't got a boyfriend. Unless you mean Sammy.” He looked back at Sam and grinned widely. “Heya Sammy!”

Sam grinned back. “Heya Dean! Jess, I don't think he's in any condition to go out on his own.”

“'M fine,” Dean announced, beginning to color-coordinate the shoes by the door.

“He's fine,” Jess conceded. “Besides, doesn't James live like, two blocks away?”

Dean suddenly nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! He does! Right down that-a-way!” Dean yelled, pointing in some direction.

Sam chuckled and rolled his eyes. “How about you stay here 'til you're a little more _aware_ and then you go?”

Dean nodded his agreement and began trying to stack all of the shoes into a tower.

It took a good long while until Dean had convinced them he could walk two dang blocks on his own, but the brisk walk in the cool air to James’s was worth it. Especially when James opened his door, big smile plastered on his face.

“Bean!”

“James!” Dean leaned in and kissed him quickly. “Wanna come help us decorate a tree?”

“Decorate a tree?”

“Yeah, Christmas tree! And there's eggnog and all of our neighbors are gone so we can be as loud as we want!”

James chuckled. “You drive a hard bargain, Dean Winchester. I'll go! Let me get my jacket.”

Dean followed him inside, glancing around the place he knew pretty well.

“Where did all your neighbors go?” James asked, rifling through his closet.

Dean toyed with some knick-knacks on a table. A little wind-up toy Dean had found in a thrift shop, a book that you could hide stuff in, a few of Dean’s cassettes. “Home for the holidays, I think.”

“So we can be as loud as we want, huh?” James came out with one of the many jackets Dean had left at his place, grinning wide.

Dean tried not to notice the way he looked, but the slight buzz in his brain didn't help. “Well not entirely, I mean, Sam and Jess are still there.”

James laughed and threaded his hand through Dean’s easily. “And what would we be doing that Sam and Jess would not also be loud with us?”

Dean accidentally met James's big brown eyes and _whoops_ he did not remember giving his brain permission to run to the places it was currently running.

James’s smile turned to a downright evil smirk. “Dean Winchester, I _know_ you are not flirting with me.”

Dean licked his bottom lip. “And if I was?”

The smirk slipped off James’s face. “Wait…” James released his hand, turning fully to Dean. “Are you… Are you actually hitting on me?”

Dean felt a blush rise to his ears. “Um…”

James suddenly crowded in closer, all notion of personal space thrown out the window. “Dude. You're drunk. I can see it in your eyes.”

Dean’s hand went to James's face. “'M just tipsy.”

“So not-” James was momentarily cut off by a kiss, “Not in your right mind.” His eyes were closing of their own accord.

“Right enough.” Another kiss.

“We’ve been best friends for five months, man.”

Dean pressed another kiss to James’s jaw. “Yeah…”

James nipped at Dean’s bottom lip in retribution, then seemed to catch himself. “Where is this coming from?”

Dean pulled James closer by his jacket. “Eggnog, probably,” Dean deadpanned before kissing him harshly.

James laughed softly against Dean’s mouth before pulling back. “Calm down there, buckaroo. How about this? We - Dean you've gotta quit kissing me for just a second - we go back to your place, have fun with your family, and I'll spend the night with you. If you still feel this way in the morning… then we’ll talk. Okay?”

Dean dropped his head to James’s shoulder, pressing pouty kisses to his neck. “Don't wanna talk.”

James huffed, wrapping his arms around his friend. “Tell me what's up, man.”

Dean tensed. “Final grades are coming out soon.”

“Yep, they are. And?”

Dean’s hands tightened in James’s jacket. “What if I failed?”

James ran a soothing hand through Dean’s hair. “Do you think you failed?”

Dean shrugged morosely.

“I'm sure you did fine, babe. But there's no sense in worrying about it right now.”

“So kisses then?” Dean suggested, straightening to wiggle his eyebrows at James.

James booped his nose. “Kisses in the morning. C’mon, we’ve got a tree to decorate.”

They walked back to Sam and Jess’s, hand in hand, and if Dean felt just a little better then who was to judge?

Dean threw open the door and waltzed in while James stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“Thought maybe you got lost,” Sam told Dean, handing him another glass of eggnog.

Jess poked her head out from behind the now-un-color-coordinated tree. “ _I_ thought maybe you two got lost in each other. Hello, James.”

James waved sheepishly.

“Aw, you fucked my tree up,” Dean grumbled. He turned to James, suddenly realizing. “Aw hell, you've never actually been here before, have you? Ah, welcome to Casa Del Locos!”

Sam waved him in further. “C’mon man, grab some eggnog and help us fix this stupid tree. Some of the ornaments are still grouped. Dean gets meticulous when he's drunk.”

“Do not!”

“You literally color-coordinated a Christmas tree.”

Dean huffed and grabbed a box of ornaments. “And I will _re_ -color-coordinate it. C’mon, James. Help me show them how it's done.” He paused, aware of the missing heat beside him. “James.”

He still stood just inside the doorway. James turned his attention to Jessica, sweet lips suddenly curling in an ugly snarl. “You absolute fucking bitch.”

Everyone stopped cold.

“Uh, dude? Not cool,” Dean said, utterly confused. He took a few steps towards James. “You feeling okay?”

Jessica grabbed his arm and yanked him back. “Don't go near him,” she said quietly.

Sam looked between the three of them. “Um, what's-”

“There's a devil’s trap under the rug,” Jessica explained, keeping her eyes trained on James. “I put it there.”

James’s big doe eyes turned stark black. “Well hello there, dearie. Aren't you just a smarty-pants? Or is it smart-ass? I can never keep up with these terms.”

The blood left Sam’s face. “Jess, how did you know about-”

“Oh, please, give me some credit,” Jess threw at Sam. “I have an exorcism written down in my medical reference book. Page 394. Go get it.”

Sam snapped out of his daze and ran to their room.

Dean stared at James.

“What?” James asked. “You didn't know? Couldn't tell I was waiting for the right moment to kill your sister there?”

“Wait, what?” Dean asked, feeling dizziness that had nothing to do with the alcohol.

“There's a damn order to things,” James snarled. “She has to die. Sam has to die. And then you have to be dragged down to Hell by your fucking throat.”

“You're lying…”

“Why the fuck would I lie? These things _have_ to happen and _I've_ gotta make sure they do. You're already too far off track. Did you _really_ think you're supposed to be here? At Stanford?”

“I-”

“Let me answer that for you. _You're not._ You are supposed to be hunting down monsters with your dear old daddy. He's supposed to abandon you. And you're supposed to drag Sam back into the life. Then, while you're all off prancing around saving someone who doesn't need saved, I waltz right in and kill Jessica. Beginning of story.”

Jessica put one shoulder in front of Dean. “Well, checkmate, you bastard.”

James smirked. “You think this is over? That we’re not going to get the story back on track? Let me tell you something,” he leaned forward as far as the trap would let him, “a hit has been called on you, darling. You won't be safe anywhere.”

There was fire in Jessica’s eyes. “Fine. Send your best. _I will fucking destroy them._ ”

Sam handed her the book and she began reading. “Exorcizamus te-”

James gritted his teeth. “And Dean Winchester-” he fell to his knees, “you’re the reason this is all off-course.” He met Dean’s eyes before the final line. “When the people you love are all dropping like flies around you… When you're watching the life drain out of their eyes… Just remember: it will all be your fault.”

“- Audi nos!”

James heaved a great cloud of black smoke, and collapsed.


	25. Brave New World

Dean was busy looking out Bobby’s window. “Why don't we plant a garden or something?”

Sam paused in reclaiming his coffee mug. “A garden?”

“Yeah. This old timer’s always complaining about having to go get groceries so let's just put ‘em outside.”

Sam and Bobby exchanged a look. “Knock yourself out,” Bobby said. “Tools are in the shed. Might have to get seeds.”

Dean turned back around and raised an eyebrow at Bobby. “Nuh-uh. You're helping, too. Ain't no way I'm doing this alone.”

“Um, you're not doing this at all,” Sam told him, going to get himself a new coffee. “Doctor’s orders.”

\---

Jess waved at Sam and Dean as they left for the store, waiting for the door to close before turning to Bobby. "Talk to me," she told him, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Um, okay. Hello," Bobby responded.

"I meant about monsters."

He was lucky he didn't have his coffee to his lips, but he choked on air, anyways. "I -" he coughed. “I don't know what you mean!"

Jess raised one eyebrow and opened one of the many hidden drawers around Bobby's house, revealing tomes and tomes of lore.

"How did ya find those?"

"I'm generally very curious. Now. Talk to me."

"Sam wouldn't be too happy..."

Jess sighed and said, "Don't tell Sam. Let him tell me when the time is right. But... Something seemed off when we left Palo Alto, and it's strange that Dean got caught in a fire at the same time. For now, just let me know so I can keep those two idiots safe."

Bobby swirled his mug, thinking. "You gotta promise you're only gonna use this stuff for self defense. No hunting."

"Dear God, I promise. Why the hell would I ever want to HUNT something?"

Bobby sighed, grabbed the first book he had ever shown Sam, and talked.


	26. Chapter 26

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ALREADY KNEW? YOU WERE _NEVER_ SUPPOSED TO KNOW!” Sam yelled.

Jess growled back, “WELL THEN FUCK ME SIDEWAYS FOR NOT JUST _SITTING ON MY ASS_ WHEN WE WERE AT BOBBY’S!”

“So what?” Sam snarled. “You found a hidden book and just thought, 'Oh, lucky me! I gotta go behind my boyfriend's back and hunt some _GODDAMN BLOODY MONSTERS!’?!”_

“AT LEAST I WASN’T THINKING, 'HUH, I BETTER NOT TELL MY _VERY COMMITTED GIRLFRIEND_ ABOUT MY LIFE!’”

“WELL WHOOPDI-FUCKING-DO, NOW WE GOT A GODDAMN _DEAD BODY_ TO DEAL WITH!”

“NOT LIKE YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO, APPARENTLY!”

Dean listened to them bicker in silence, staring at the lifeless eyes in James’s corpse. He gulped and looked away, eyes landing on his stuff. It had grown over the months. He had some DVDs, a few new books, some sketching pencils… just small things he could never have before.

The door didn't make a sound as it closed behind him.

He walked in the brisk weather to Barbara's, not bothering to listen for footsteps following him.

_Let them get me._

His fingers were turning blue when they knocked on Barbara’s door. It usually never got this cold in Palo Alto. Record low, actually.

He turned on his heel and left long before the door had even opened.

The library door opened easily.

He walked his own well-worn path to the book he was looking for, one that he knew Barbara always gravitated towards. She would hold it. That's all she would ever do. She would never open it, just hold it lightly and quietly.

He grabbed a pen and wrote 'Tell her I’m sorry’ right there at the end, right after the words that were ringing in his ears.

_So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past._

Five hundred and twenty seven keystrokes and eleven buttons later, Dean was asking softly into the phone, “Dad?”

This is what anyone standing nearby would have heard:

“Yeah, yeah. I'm okay.”

“Yeah, Palo Alto.”

“...No, not really.”

“Sam is fine. For now. I gotta… I gotta leave.”

“I was kinda hoping… with you.”

“...Oh.”

“Oh.

“...oh.”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. Some other time.”

“Yeah, hey, Dad, listen. I gotta go. Um, take… take care.”

Dean hung up the phone, buried his face in his hands, slid down the wall, and cried.


	27. Chapter 27

Were there toll numbers for this? How did this work?

'Hello, welcome to 1-800-DEMONS, how may we direct your call?’

' _Yes hello, I'd like to sell my soul in exchange for bypassing the part of my story where everyone dies.’_

'You’re going to want Customer Relations.’

Dean sighed. If only it was that easy.

He was huddled up in a comfy corner of the library, nestled in an oversized bean bag for the night. He didn't want to face anyone. He wanted to research how to get this all over and done with.

Maybe…

He went back over to the phones and dialed a familiar number.

“'Llo?”

“Bobby.”

“Dean? Everything okay?”

Dean glanced around. “Yeah, yeah. Everything's… well, no. We’ve been having a… demon problem. And I wanted to stay out of it, but I can't anymore,” Dean lied through his teeth. “Anyway, it's been making deals and disappearing immediately. We think the only way to catch it is to pretend to make a deal, make it show it's ugly face. Whatcha got?”

“Well,” Bobby sighed, “you gotta find a crossroads.”

“Like. Any crossroads?”

“Pretty much. Probably dirt or gravel cuz you'll have to bury a box.”

“Just a box?”

“No, ya idjit, you gotta put some shit _in_ the box.” Bobby rambled on about what to put in it while Dean took notes hastily.

“Alright, I think I've got it. Thanks, Bobby. We’ll call and let ya know how it went.”

“You boys better. Take care.”

“You, too.”

It was a good thing both that Dean knew the layout of the town and that he was an excellent thief.

He patted the dirt back down over the box and stood up, looking around in the cold, dark night.

_My soul for Sam’s and Jess’s and Dad’s. Seems like a good deal._

The blood rushing in his ears was so loud he didn't notice someone running up until they were yanking him back by the scruff of his shirt.

They pulled and dragged him as he struggled to remain on his own two feet.

“What _exactly_ were you thinking, Dean?!” Sam cried out, exasperated. “You're damn lucky I called Bobby and told him what happened before you did. A demon deal? _Really_?”

“I-I-I figured I could bypass the whole-”

“What? The whole 'we all die’ thing? _Fucking newsflash_ , everyone dies!” Sam yelled and released his hold on Dean. “You think that _we_ don't deserve a say in the matter?”

Dean’s hands were at the sides of his face, shaking but not touching. “ _LET ME DO THIS, SAM!”_

“WHY? WHY WOULD I _EVER_ LET YOU DO THIS?!”

_So I can make up for all the shit I've done._

Dean’s breath was coming out in short gasps. Sam plowed on.

“Why is it so damn hard for you to understand?! Huh, Dean?! Why can't you get it through your thick skull that _we want you here?!_ That we _care_ about you?! I'm _glad_ you're my big brother, Dean! You always took care of me, no matter how pig-headed I got! So _let me do the same for you!_ ”

There was that montage in Dean’s head again, from what felt like lifetimes ago. Only this time it wasn't the memories of his little Sammy. It was his imagination, forcing him to watch as James’s lifeless corpse became Sam’s. Dread crept up Dean’s throat as he saw hollow eyes and grey veins snaking across the cheek of his twenty year old brother.

It had been months, but he knew this feeling.

“Sam,” Dean rasped out, “please stop.”

Sam took in Dean’s shivering form and his terrified eyes and sighed, wrapping his arms snugly around his older brother. “Dean, I love you.”

Dean held on to Sam, taking deep breaths. “Don't say that,” Dean whispered.

“I'll say whatever I damn well please,” Sam snarked, earning a small smile from Dean. “In fact,” he continued, “I'll say that Bobby should shave his beard.”

Dean scrunched his nose and laughed, despite himself. “Nooooooo,” he whined.

“I'll say that I should get a tramp stamp.”

“Don't you fucking da-”

“I'll say that I write fanfiction about Sigmund Freud in my free time.”

“Oh god is it-”

“Yes. All porn. Second-person perspective, too.”

Dean chuckled softly into Sam’s shoulder, then laughed louder, and louder, until he was holding onto Sam to keep from falling over.

“Let's go home, okay?” Sam suggested softly. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about things later.”

Dean wiped his eyes and nodded, smile still tugging softly at his lips.

Sam put his arm around Dean and led him to where Jess was waiting in the car while, far away, angels and demons tittered nervously to themselves.


	28. Chapter 28

Dean exhaled slowly, deepening his floor stretch.

 _"There’s nothing_ **_to do_ ,** _Dean. We were always gonna die. The only difference now is that we have a better idea of how that's gonna happen.”_

He stretched his fingers out to his toes, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

_“I called Dad.”_

His eyes were closed as he arched his back into the stretch, wrapping his fingers around the sole of his outstretched foot.

_“You… you called Dad?”_

He switched legs, leaning down over his left, nose touching knee.

_“He said he didn't want me around him anymore.”_

_“He didn't say that.”_

_“...”_

_“He… he did say that.”_

He put his hands and feet firmly on the ground, on his back, and arched his body up.

_He had to tell Babs. She deserved to know. But he couldn't just tell her about…_

He released his stretch and flipped, bending almost in half, planting his palms on the ground in front of him.

_“You okay, Dean? I haven't seen you in a few days.”_

_“I…”_

He walked his feet forward and out, putting all his weight on his hands.

_“What's wrong? You know you can tell me anything.”_

_“Babs, I… I…”_

He took his feet off the ground.

_“I tried to kill myself.”_

With a crash, Dean groaned and rubbed his forehead.

Sam laughed from somewhere behind him. “You'll get it one of these days. Ready for our run?”

Dean groaned louder and sprawled out farther on the rug. “It's too _early_ for this shit!”

“Sorry, Dean. It's part of the recovery plan and you've gotta do it.”

Dean sighed dramatically. “And why doesn't _she_ have to go with us?” He jerked a thumb at Jess, who was staring groggily at the TV as she ate cereal.

Sam’s smirk turned evil. “She got all her exercise last night.”

Jess grinned at Sam at the same time that Dean yelled out, “OH EW _GROSS!"_

Sam laughed and helped Dean off the ground. “Seriously, man. We’ve been running for two months now. You think you'd be used to it.”

Dean dusted off his shirt. “Oh, I am. But being difficult is infinitely more fun.”

Sam patted his shoulder and opened their door. “You've been doing a lot better. Proud of you, Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah. Shut your mouth and get ready for me to beat ya.”

Sam laughed, closing the door behind them. “It's not a race, man.”

“Maybe not to _you!"_

They walked for a bit, easing into it.

“Hey, Sam?”

“Mm?”

“I was thinking…”

“You do that?”

Dean shoved his arm. “Shut up. I was thinking that we all need to get a couple of tattoos.”

“I don't think 'family tattoos’ are considered very 'hip and happening’ Dean.”

“Oh God I don't know you.”

Sam laughed, then proceeded to run closer. “I should’ve worn my shirt that says 'Brother Run Team’,” Sam teased.

“You don't own one of those, Sammy."

“But I could.”

Dean groaned and sped up, trying to outpace Sam a little. “Look,” he yelled over his shoulder, “we need the fire star thing from our necklaces, and then the Gallifreyan shit Bobby drew on me.”

Sam easily caught up with him. “You think they would work as tattoos?”

“Bobby said they would.”

“Hm. Well, alright then,” Sam said, breaking into a full run and pulling ahead.

“Hey!” Dean yelled out, running after him.

Sam laughed and tossed over his shoulder, “Gotta keep up, Dean! Who knows when you'll need to run to catch the ice cream truck?”

“Don't you _dare_ talk about ice cream at a time like this!”

Dean wasn't paying very much attention, and he ran directly into Sam’s back.

“Uh, dude. Keep moving.”

Sam pointed out a ways, and Dean followed his direction until his eyes landed on long claw marks along a telephone pole.

Dean bit his bottom lip. “Just… keep moving.”


	29. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Jess raised her eyebrows at them. “You saw a _what?"_

“A set of claw marks!” Sam exclaimed, running his hand through his hair.

“One that we are _not_ doing anything about!” Dean retaliated, yanking some glasses out of the cabinet and filling them with beer.

“Dean,” Sam began slowly, “we weren't far from Chancellor Barbara’s house.”

Dean cursed sharply and slammed a glass down. “Fine. _Fine._ But this is an in and out and _only_ for Babs. Got it?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Obviously, Dean.”

Dean downed a glass before pulling out some tomes Bobby had lent them. “What the fuck are we even looking at?”

Sam sighed and shrugged. “Not sure yet. We may need to go back and do some EMF scans and _no_ Jess you can't come with us.”

Jess crossed her arms and glared at Sam. “And why the hell not?”

“Bobby made you promise not to hunt, and you are keeping that promise.”

Jess threw her arms in the air. “I'm not letting you two _dorks_ go alone!”

Sam sighed, rubbing his temples. “Look, you can help us research, okay? Figure out what this is.”

Dean handed Jess a beer. “The thing is, we gotta be real careful because we’re not skipping town after this.”

Sam groaned. “Fuck, you're right. We can't pretend to be anyone but ourselves. How are we gonna make people tell us stuff if we’re just college students?”

Dean suddenly looked up at Sam. “Dude. Doc Ernest.”

Jess looked at them both. “Professor Lumley? What's he gonna do?”

Dean pursed his lips in thought, then just grabbed the car keys and threw them at Sam. “Let's roll.”

\---

“So let me get this straight.”

Jess stood with her arms crossed, glaring down three sheepish-looking men.

She pointed at Sam. “ _You're_ a hunter.” She moved to Dean. “ _He’s_ a hunter.” Finally, Ernest. “And _he's_ a hunter. Are there any more _hunters_ I should know about?”

A parrot croaked from somewhere, “You're a hunter!”

She jabbed her finger at the bird. “Damn straight I am.” She sighed and scrubbed her hand across her face. “Just - _goddamn it_ \- can we all just agree to tell the _truth_ from now on? Monsters aren't going to kill me. These damn _secrets_ are.”

The boys glanced at each other before nodding their consent.

“Good. Any secrets to divulge while we have an open field?” Silence. “Okay, then. In that case, let's start over with: Professor Ernest, can you help us?”

Ernest nodded, absently trying to untangle his glasses from his curly hair. “I might have a few resources we can pull. Follow me.” He led them through room after room, pausing to knock on a door. “Lagnos! Need your help!”

A dishevelled man opened the door, rubbing his eyes. “Ah. Ti óra eínai?”

“We have to identify a monster.” Ernest paused. “Put on a shirt.”

“Bah,” Lagnos said, stretching his arms up.

Jess was staring wide-eyed all around. “How the fuck does any of this work?”

Ernest turned to glance at her. “Magic.”

“Yeah but… _how?!”_

“Ah, wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey.” Ernest turned back to Lagnos. “So are you gonna help us or sit on your ass?”

Lagnos sighed. “I help. Come.” He gestured for them to follow as he brushed past them, leading them to the library.

Dean glanced at the books on the ground. “Dude. Did you never pick up all the shit I threw?”

Ernest glanced at Lagnos, then back at Dean. “I've been busy.”

Dean smirked a little and winked. “So you and Lagnos are a thing, huh?”

Lagnos dropped the book he had been holding. “Ahm… My name is not Lagnos.”

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance.

“Then what is it?” Sam asked.

“Ah, my name? Is Antiochus.”

“Anti-...ahkus?” Jess tried.

Antiochus nodded. “My brother is Ochus. I am Antiochus.”

Ernest cleared his throat. “Anyways. We’re hunting a monster so let’s ah, let's get on that!”

Dean held up a hand. “Hold on. What is Lagnos, then?”

Antiochus looked Dean up and down and winked. “Means 'sexy’.”

Sam picked up the book Antiochus had dropped. “Isn't… isn't the whole anti-brother thing an ancient Greek practice? Or was it Roman…”

Antiochus nodded. “Am Greek.”

“Oh! I didn't know they still did that. I guess it makes naming easier.”

Antiochus tilted his head to the side. “Ahm, no. Am ah, poia eínai i lexi, ancient?” he said, trying the last word like a new piece of candy.

“I… I have no clue what you just tried to say.”

Antiochus huffed and turned to Ernest. “Léte óti eímai paliá.”

Ernest rolled his eyes, taking the book from Sam. “Antio _is_ ancient Greek.”

The three siblings stared at him.

Antio grinned and ruffled his own hair, revealing two animal ears perched on the top sides of his head. “Satyr, naí?”

Dean looked down at Antio’s bare, human feet. “Aren't satyrs supposed to be like. Half goat?”

Antio pursed his lips and looked up like he was piecing together the sentence before he said it. “And you believe all that you read?” he finally said, flashing Dean a toothy grin.

“Fair enough, I suppose.”

Antio nodded and went back to pulling some books from the shelf. “Goats are… ah, lagnos, óchi? Ah, artists make us goats because we are sexy.”

Jess snorted, and immediately covered her mouth with her hand, turning red. “S-sorry,” she stammered.

Ernest took some books from Antio. “What he means is that goats were seen as lewd and corrupt creatures that were obsessed with sex, so it was added to the artistic expression of satyrs. They're the male version of nymphs, actually.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at Antio, _definitely_ not glancing at his ass. “So Ernest found himself a nymphomaniac, huh?”

Antio flashed a grin at Dean. “Naí.”

“What, no?”

Ernest shoved some books into Dean’s arms, his face beet red. “Naí means yes, óchi means no, and the blush I'm _sure_ is on my face means let's talk about literally anything else! Like this damn monster!”

They sat all the books on a table and each pulled up a seat.

Antiochus crouched in his chair and addressed Sam. “Describe?”

“Well, we didn't see it. We only saw its claw marks.”

“Number?”

“Three.”

Antio frowned and began flipping through pages of books in many languages, before finally sighing and turning to Ernest. “Échoun symveí paráxena prágmata?”

Ernest nodded, and they briefly discussed something in whatever language before Ernest turned back to them. “Some strange shit has been happening around here.”

“Like?”

“Well, a girl was attacked by a clown two nights ago.”

Sam let out a strangled noise. “Please no.”

“And last week, someone swore up and down they saw a shadowy creature following them home.”

Antio was flipping through pages while Ernest described a few more incidents, before finally making a triumphant sound and flipping the book around to show them.

Ernest whispered to him, “They don't speak Old English.”

Antio made a noise of disbelief. “They are Englishmen!”

“Okay but English has evolved a _lot_ since then.”

Antio waved Ernest off, addressing Sam. “Pūcel.” He raised his eyebrows as if he expected Sam to understand.

Sam shook his head and Antio groaned.

“Ahm, no pūcel? Púca? Bwg?”

Jess and Dean exchanged a look.

Antio growled in frustration. “Bogun! Bogle! Phouka!”

“Um…”

“Eseís mitéra!” Antio groaned. “Boggart!”

“Wait!” Jess yelled, throwing out a hand.

Antio shifted his attention to her.

“I know that one. Boggart.”

Antio looked at Ernest with a smug, self-satisfied smirk. “Is Englishmen,” he repeated, smiling to himself.

Ernest groaned. “You got lucky.” He picked up the book and scanned it. “I fucking hate old English. It's impossible. Doesn't even _look_ like English.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Can you read it?”

He huffed and murmured, “Give me a minute. Go find the normal English books.”

Dean scaled the stories of library (seriously, who keeps the nonfiction at the _top?!)_ and pulled all the promising books he could carry.

He plunked them all onto the table and all the free hands grabbed one.

Antio thumbed through one before saying, “I fuck hate new English,” in an almost perfect imitation of Ernest.

“Ignoring you,” Ernest grumbled.

Antio found the non-English books and began perusing them. There was silence excepting the occasional turn of a page until Ernest slid his book around to face the three.

“Okay,” Ernest began, “I think I've got it. Boggarts are basically evil spirits that haunt people. Or at least, that's the lore I knew. But _this_ old piece of shit says they can also shapeshift into your greatest fear. So. Yeah. Have fun.”

Dean stared at the old drawing on the page. “Um. How do we kill it?”

Ernest shrugged. “I mean, it's a spirit. Salt and burn, I guess.”

Jess was biting her bottom lip, and Antio noticed. “Páfsi,” he told her, reaching out and thumbing her mouth open. Dean felt Sam tense beside him. Antio flicked his eyes over. “I fuck him, no other,” he said, jerking his head towards Ernest. He looked back at Jess. “Why you bite?”

“Well… I mean, JK Rowling isn't a hunter or anything but-”

“Yeah she is,” Ernest interrupted.

Jess stopped cold. “What?”

“She’s a hunter. What about her?”

Jess gazed back and forth between Ernest and Antio, disbelieving. “You… You haven't read the books?”

Ernest raised an eyebrow. “I've seen her slovenly drunk. I couldn't take it seriously.”

Jess’s mouth dropped open before she closed it and cleared her throat. “She wrote about boggarts.”

Ernest made a “go on” motion.

Jess rolled her eyes. “She said you could defeat them by not being afraid of what they turn into. You have to laugh at them.”

“Well, that sounds entirely made up.”

Antio nodded. “Naí, better to fire the bones.”

“Burn,” Ernest whispered.

“Fire the burn.”

Ernest caught Antio’s smirk and laughed. “Now you're fucking with us, aren't you?”

“I prefer for fucking with yo-”

“OKAY WE’RE LEAVING,” Sam yelled out, pulling Jess and Dean up. “Thanks for the help what a wonderful visit we will call first next time GOODBYE!”

They were almost out the door before Dean had time to wolf-whistle and yell, “See ya, Lagnos!”

\---

The next bit of research was far less fun, as it involved researching every suspicious death in the past six months or so. Jess, for her part, researched as if doing so would ensure she got to go on the hunt.

As if.

Every so often Sam would catch her puppy-dog face and his own would harden. “No.”

Jess would throw her hands in the air and yell for the umpteenth time, “But Harry Potter!”

And Sam would shake his head no again.

After a bit, Dean shut his laptop and began making supper (scratch macaroni, thank you very much).

“So we've got - what - five suspects?” Dean called out over the counter, rolling out the pasta dough.

Sam sighed. “Six now. Fuck, I hate this.”

Dean shrugged. “Hunting's a bitch, Sammy. Always has been.”

Sam pouted. “Yeah but now that I've been out of it for a while, it's even _worse._ ”

“I have so many questions, though!” Jess finally burst out, pushing her hair back. “Like, what if I convinced myself my greatest fear was the boggart dying? Or what if my greatest fear is JUST the boggart?!”

Sam gazed at her levelly. “Look. If you agree to not go on this hunt, I'm sure I could get Ernest to arrange you a meeting with Rowling.”

Jess gasped, worried her bottom lip, and said, “I want to go on this hunt” with less conviction than a child lying.

Sam groaned and held his head in his hands. “You're just gonna fucking follow us, aren't you?”

“Yes.”

Sam ran a hand over his mouth. “Fine. You can hold the damn lighter when we burn this bitch.”

Jess’s grin was sunshine.

“In that case!” she exclaimed, pulling out her list of names. “These four aren't actually good candidates.”

“You-...”

“Shush, you would have done the same. We only have two actual suspects.”

Dean dropped his rolled macaroni into a pot. “Burn 'em both.”

Jess nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Let's go!”

Dean’s head snapped up to hers. " _Excuse you_ I am making macaroni!”

Her time spent with Sam shone through in her perfectly executed bitch face. “It's _macaroni.”_

“ _Hand-made_ macaroni _.”_

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Macaroni, then boggart.”

\---

Jess held her lighter tightly as Sam and Dean dug. She glanced over her shoulder frequently, making sure no one was paying any midnight graveyard visits.

Well, no one but them.

There was a clunk as they hit coffin.

Sam looked up at her. “May wanna cover your nose. And look away.”

Jess didn't question him.

They asked for the lighter and she tossed it to them, keeping her eyes anywhere but. She felt the intense heat of sudden flame and Sam’s hand on her shoulder.

“Is this as glamorous as you thought?” he teased.

She glared at him and huffed, marching off towards grave number two.

Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam, who responded with rolled eyes. “She's fine. And she should know better than to want to come.”

“Sammy, not to butt in where I shouldn't but… _you_ wanted to come when you found out. Practically begged me to take you. It's just-” Dean shrugged, “It’s normal.”

“ _Nothing_ about this is normal, Dean!”

Dean had opened his mouth to respond when a shaky, “Sam?” sounded from behind them.

They turned to see Jess facing down two older people.

“Shit,” Dean whispered. “Someone saw us.”

“What's our cover?” Sam asked low as they made their way over.

“Um, I'm not sure.”

“We look like devil worshipers!”

“This isn't devil worship! This is… it's… I don't know what this is.”

They straightened as they approached the couple.

“Um, hello,” Sam said, waving slightly. “Sorry about the… um… fire.” He squinted. “Hey, do I know you?”

“Sam,” Jess said shakily. “These are my parents. That's… I found the boggart.”

They turned their attention to the couple standing there as if they had nothing but time.

“So,” the woman said, “you're the young man that has corrupted my daughter.” She turned her head towards Jessica. “You know you're going to Hell now, right?”

Jess shook her head. “I'm not. And you can't scare me.”

“Hm, you're right. We can't,” the man said. “Not like this.”

It was blurry and dark, and then Ernest stood before them, smiling in a way that didn't meet his eyes. “But maybe we can talk about _you,_ Jessica. And those pretty little scars on your wrists.”

There was a shot, and the boggart dematerialized.

“Move,” Dean told Jess, reloading his gun.

“Isn't that it, though?” Ernest said from behind them. “What you truly fear?”

Another shot. He moved to the left.

“Your own mind, my girl. You're afraid that, one morning, you'll wake up and you won't have control again. And you'll hurt yourself. Or better yet-”

Shot.

Sam was grinning in front of her, eyes soulless as blood dripped from the wound in his throat. “You'll hurt _me.”_

A scream was ripped out of Jessica, and she was shaking in the real Sam’s arms, repeating over and over, “I wouldn’t I wouldn't I wouldn't I…”

Dean finally swung an iron knife through the damned thing. “The grave! Hurry!” he shouted, and Sam picked Jessica up and ran after Dean.

They dug as quick as they could, Jessica curled up tight beside the hole. They hit coffin lid just as a strangled noise exited Jess’s throat. Dean looked up in alarm, only to feel the blood drain from his face as John Winchester reached down and hauled Dean out by his jacket.

It was like instinct. He wasn't thinking, he was just grabbing onto anything he could find, pleading, “Please no please no please no please-”

He was eye-level with John.

“Hiya, boy,” John said, his breath reeking of alcohol, before he threw Dean ten feet away.

Dean’s head hit the ground hard enough that spots danced across his vision as John approached.

Dean finally noticed the blood on John’s knuckles.

“Oh, this?” John said, motioning to his own hand. “I told you to keep Sammy quiet. You couldn't, so I did.”

“No,” Dean breathed out, eyes wide, blood draining from his face. “No, no, no you didn't, you _didn't-”_

“He ran away on _your_ watch, Dean. If you can't take care of him, then I will.”

Dean covered his head with his hands, trying to catch his breath but there was no air, there was no air-

“Boy, do you know what Sam’s jaw feels like when it cracks under your hand? Because I do. And it feels _wonderful."_

A shovel swung through John’s stomach, and he turned around to see Jess, wild-eyed and furious. “Hello, sweetheart,” John drawled, finally turning his eyes to Sam. He reached down into the hole and grabbed the lighter, throwing it far away. “And hello, Sammy.”

Jess lunged at John, but he sent her sprawling away with a flick of his wrist. “You wanna know why I locked Dean in that bathroom?”

Sam stopped cold. “Not even a little.”

“It was because of _you._ If you hadn't gone to college, Dean would’ve been fine. But no, you had to up and leave us. Wanna know a secret?”

Sam fumbled for his matches as John dragged him out of the hole.

“You know WHY I beat Dean all those years ago? Because YOU kept fucking up. His pain is YOUR fault, and it always has been. You've always been the burden, Sammy. You've always been the selfish burden on us. YOU are going to kill him.”

Sam held tight to the matches as he landed on the ground, scurrying to get one out.

“Sammy,” Dean’s voice rang out.

Sam struck a match and looked up to see Dean’s face burned away, blood running down his face. He grinned, and his cheeks cracked open. “You did this to me, Sammy.”

Sam glared at him. “It's _Sam.”_ In a blaze, the body and the boggart went up in flames.

The fire crackled, Jess collapsed on the ground, and Dean screamed out a sob.

\---

The drive back was silent. Sam held the steering wheel as Jess and Dean held each other tightly in the back seat.

“We have to talk about this,” Sam said softly.

“You're not a burden,” Dean said hoarsely. “None of it was your fault.”

“Some of it-”

“ _None_ of it was your fault, Sam.”

“Jess,” Sam said, “you're not going to hurt me. You won't lose control.”

“You don't know what I've done,” she whispered.

“I don't have to,” he responded.

Jess looked at Dean. “Dean, we will always protect you. And you and I will always protect Sam. John isn't getting to either of you ever again.”

Dean met her eyes, and, for the first time, looked completely vulnerable. “You promise?”

Jess smiled at him softly. “Yes. I promise.”

\---

They all slept on the couch that night, a mess of tangled limbs and sleeping whimpers.


	30. Chapter 30

Dean took a deep breath.

He was gonna do it this time, he was sure of it.

It had really become a morning ritual: do yoga, mentally run through old memories, remember his failures, and fail at the damn handstand.

But… he felt… okay??? this morning. He felt like he had just had a really solid, good cry and that he could take on the world yet again.

Ass on floor, legs outstretched, hands to left foot.

 _John’s lip was pulled back in an ugly snarl. “Sam running away was_ **_your_ ** _fault.”_

Well, damn, _good._

Hands to right foot.

_Barbara’s hand was shaking at his confession, and she pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. “Please don't… I… I love you, Dean. You're a son to me.”_

Dean’s lips curved into a smile as his eyes closed, stretching his arms up over his head.

_Sam’s chest heaved as he stared at Dean in awe. “Did you just… Did you just outpace me?”_

Dean chuckled a little as he stood up, feet wide, hands on the floor in front of him.

_“These puppies look suspiciously like Baxter.”_

_“Don't be ridiculous! Baxter never leaves the apartment. Well, there was that one time- GODDAMMIT!”_

There was a feeling of being upside down but also not, and Dean was too busy smiling at the memories to notice.

With a slow roll, he fell, finally _also_ not hitting his head for once.

His eyes popped open and he grinned at Jessica, who was frozen with her cereal halfway to her mouth. “Did you just-?”

Dean let out a whoop and fell back onto his back, punching the air in success. “I did it! For like a second there!!!”

“Holy shit!” Jess sat her bowl down on the table and failed to notice Baxter dipping an experimental tongue into her cereal. “Congratulations!!!”

“Oh _fuck yes!_ ”

Sam walked into the room, jogging clothes on. “Fuck what?”

Jess gave Sam a soft kiss. “Dean did a handstand!”

Dean pointed at Sam from his place on the floor. “You bet your ass I did!”

“What! Dude! You've been trying for months! Congrats!!”

Dean finally stood up and brushed himself off. “Oh _hell_ yeah. Let's run! I'm pumped now!”

Sam laughed, “Alright, Sparky. Jess, you wanna come?”

“Nah, my stomach feels weird. Y'all have fun.”

Dean snorted. “It's probably all the dog slobber in your cereal.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “What do you- _Baxter! Bad dog!”_

Dean and Sam ducked out as she was still pulling Baxter away.

“So, where to today?” Sam asked, already getting settled into a brisk walk.

“I am craving some pancakes. How about Barbara's?”

“Sounds good!”

They steadily increased to a jog, then a run, approaching the quaint little house.

Dean knocked on the door and it opened after two quick knocks.

“Dean! Sam! Come on in!”

Dean pulled her into a big hug before stepping inside. “Babs!”

“Hello there, Dean Winchester,” she said, eyes sparkling.

Sam grinned at the two of them and nodded his head. “Chancellor Heeren.”

Babs rolled her eyes. “For the millionth time, Sam, you can call me Barbara.”

Sam toed off his shoes. “Okay, Chancellor Barbara.”

Babs chuckled slightly. “So, what brings you two to my neck of the woods?”

Dean was already straightening up loose papers and readjusting the bookshelf. “Um, we were hoping for your world famous pancakes!”

“At _this_ hour in the morning? You know those are nighttime food!” Babs teased.

Dean threw back a smile at her. “Yeah but I did a handstand this morning and that deserves some celebrating.”

Barbara laughed. “Alright. Okay. You win. Lucky for you I love making them,” she replied, winking.

“I'll help!” Dean announced, making his way to the kitchen.

Babs pulled him back by his arm. “Nuh-uh. You just want to steal my recipe so you can make them whenever you want.”

Dean heaved a heavy sigh. “Fine. I'll go make tea.”

Barbara shook her head and laughed, following him into the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Dean brought out two cups of tea and sat one in front of Sam, who was sitting on the couch, absently perusing a book.

Dean sat down his own tea before plopping down next to his lumbering brother. “Whatcha reading?”

“Uh, Dickens.” He looked at the tea cups and frowned. “Do you have any bigger cups?”


	31. Chapter 31

Dean had just felt amazing today. He couldn't decide what it was, but his damn intrusive thoughts hadn't been giving him hell like usual. Now, however, as night blanketed Palo Alto, they were trying to return.

“Hey Sammy!” Dean finally said after playing a few games of tug-of-war with Baxter, “Let's go for another run!”

Sam laughed. “Dude, it's like…  _ dark _ outside.”

“We’ve done it before! You chicken?”

“You go on without me,” Sam chuckled. “Maybe I'll make good use of the time you're gone.” Sam winked at Jess and Dean fake-gagged.

“Ew. Gross. I'm leaving.”

“Do you have your phone?” Sam called out after him.

Dean waved it in his hand before closing the door behind him.

He did a few stretches before going straight into a jog. Generally, he found that, if he ran hard enough, it was near impossible to think of anything other than running.

He was pushing himself to full-on sprint across campus and out the other side, trying to ignore the voices in his head yet again.

He heard a truck start up, and something about it caught his interest. He took an immediate right turn and the truck followed.

_ Play it cool, Winchester. _

He took the next right turn, then the next, and one more.

A full circle.

Headlights fell on him.

He  _ booked it. _

He was jumping over fences and ducking through alleys, pulling his phone out and hitting speed dial.

“Hello?”

“I changed my mind!” Dean huffed out, launching himself through a hole in a chain link fence.

Sam’s voice sounded tinny through the phone. “About running? Dude, just come back then. Or are you trying to give me a heads up? That was a joke, Jess and I are-”

“About  _ dying! _ ” Dean unintentionally yelled as he accidentally rammed his shoulder into a playset. “I don't wanna die anymore, okay?”

“I… that's… good, Dean. Good. But what brought this-”

“Some dude is after me and he's chasing me and I don't wanna die Sammy I-”

Dean missed the way he had run into the street, only to be hit by a very familiar looking truck.

His vision was hazy and his head hurt like hell, and he could only manage a soft “please” before he lost consciousness.


	32. Chapter 32

Dean groaned as he woke up. Without even moving he could tell he was bruised to Hell and back. He felt what could be dried blood on his cheek and made to wipe it off, but found his hands immobile.

His eyes snapped open.

Trees whizzed by at alarming speeds and classic rock played softly in the background.

“You're awake,” a deep voice said next to him.

He made a sound that was  _ definitely _ not a panicked whimper as he turned to look at the driver.

“Dad?” he said. Or, rather, tried to say. It came out muffled and unrecognizable, and Dean realized he was not only hogtied - he was gagged.

Oh,  _ fuck. _

“Sorry about that phone call a coupla months back,” John slurred, “I couldn't have ya running around by me again. I was in some deep shit. But I'm back now, and we can do our thing again. Like ya wanted, right?”

_ Fuckfuckfuckfuckityfuck- _

“Here, let me-” John reached over and harshly tugged the rags out of Dean’s mouth. “That was just a safety precaution.”

Dean’s mouth felt like sandpaper. “Why-” Dean’s voice cracked and he had to try again. “Why am I hogtied?”

“You always did go back and forth on decisions. I didn't want ya to run away again. Not now that I know this is what you really want, right?”

“No! No, it's not!”

John fumbled around for his bottle and took a swig. “See, what did I tell ya?”

“You're… Are you… Dad! Pull over! You're fucking drunk!”

“I'm fine,” John told him, setting his bottle back into the cup holder. “I'm just happy to have my son back! You and me together again. Just like old times!” John clapped Dean on the shoulder, and Dean flinched.

“Dad,” Dean shuddered out over the quickly rising dread in his throat, “take me back.”

“Nah, you ain't goin’ back.”

Dean pulled at his hands, but they were tied firmly behind his back. His feet wouldn't move, either, and struggling just caused a sharp pain in his ribs. “You ran me the fuck over!”

John winced. “Sorry. Didn't see ya coming.”

Dean’s hands were shaking, and he closed his eyes and took a few steadying breaths. “Take me back.”

“No. I already said.”

His breathing was becoming erratic. “Dad. Please.”

“Don't question me, boy!” The truck jerked to the side before straightening.

“Dad-” Dean was cut off by John’s sharp brake, sending his face crashing into the dash. He groaned as John clumsily pulled his head back and stuffed the rags back in his mouth.

“Shhhhh, just rest, okay? We can talk about it when we get back to Kansas.”

It was like a surge of electricity, how quickly the panic attack burst out. Dean was shaking and he couldn't breathe, he felt like he was suffocating he-

“Be still. Rest.”

Blood was running out of his nose and tears from his eyes. He yelled and struggled in vain as John pulled back onto the road.

“Boy, what did I just-"

Dean never heard the end of the sentence. His warning, muffled yell was cut off by white, then dark, then searing, painful, all-encompassing white light as they were rammed into by an oncoming, forty-ton semi.


	33. Chapter 33

It was all white and it _hurt_ and he was rubbing his eyes but it _wasn't helping please_ **_please someone help-_ **

“Hellooooo, Dean Winchester!” a voice rang out in his head, nasally and very announcer-ish.

Dean gripped frantically at his hair, unable to respond. His eyes were closed but it was so white, _so white_ -

“Ah, here. Let me fix that.”

Darkness. Dean dared open his eyes, only to find more endless darkness.

“I removed your vision temporarily. Our vessels aren't quite… _up for rent_ just yet.”

“V-... Vessels?” Dean tried.

“Yes. My name is Zachariah, and I am an angel of the Lord.”

“Angel…”

“You're in Heaven, Dean Winchester.”

“I'm… I'm dead?”

“Yes, of course. How else would you get into Heaven?”

Images of headlights came flooding back, and Dean turned onto his stomach and hurled.

“Ah, can someone clean that up? Yes, thank you. See, Dean, you're not in your ah, _personal_ Heaven. You're in more of an… office space. For us angels. We need to have a little chat with you. Is that okay?”

Dean fell onto the newly cleaned floor, curled up on his side. He felt tile lines.

“I'll take that as a yes. See, we’ve been keeping a holy eye out on you. You're a very important man. In fact, we would like to offer you a very important job. The most important job in the world, actually, aside from being God.”

Dean hugged his knees to his chest, eyes wide open and unseeing.

“We want you to help fix the entire world, Dean. And all you have to do is say one little word. That's all. Then you get to enjoy your permanent, personal Heaven, complete with all those lovely memories of you and Samuel.”

“Sam,” Dean finally said.

“Ah, my bad. _Sam._ So what do you say?” the voice blared through his mind.

“Can I… can I think about it?”

“Excuse me?”

“I need…” Dean gulped in air. “I need to think about it.”

Dean felt a brief rush of sensation, like every hair on his body just stood on end. “What is there to think about?”

“Well, what exactly would I be doing?” Dean sat up shakily, trying to pinpoint Zachariah’s location. It was hard to do, considering the voice was in his head and not outside.

“I told you. Saying one simple word.”

“It's not that easy.”

Dean heard a screech in his ears and he cringed.

“You would be a vessel. That's all.”

“What does that mean?”

“Curious, aren't we?”

“Yes.”

Dean thought he heard feathers ruffling.

“You would just allow Michael to walk on the Earth so he can take down Lucifer.”

Dean paused. “Lucifer? Like, the devil?”

“Yes. The devil.”

“You want me to take down the devil.”

“Yes.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “I… I still need to think some but… probably yes? You're an angel, right? Good guy. That's what they say, right?”

“Right.”

Dean nodded to himself and stood up. “I'm not-”

Zachariah hastily added, “You can walk around Heaven for a bit, if it would help you decide. Everyone will stay out of your way.”

Dean felt a sudden rush of wind, and the distinct feeling of being alone. He put out his hands and stumbled, finding a wall. He felt along it until he found a door, then a doorknob. Out.

He felt feathers brush against him as he meandered, sending bursts of electricity through his body, causing his head to twitch more often than not. Nothing he touched felt familiar. In fact, he had never felt quite so… well… _alone._

He finally found a spot that felt okay and sat down, thinking things over.

_The devil. Satan. Lucifer._

Take him down? Could it really be that simple? He knew a bit of angels, just like everyone else. He knew they were good and that they served God. So, really, why didn't he just say _yes_ and be done with it?

Well, because there was this tugging in his gut that he had been ignoring until now.

Dean took a shuddery breath. His entire being wanted to walk somewhere, and he was afraid to let it.

But this was _Heaven_ , right? He couldn't be hurt here. Not like Earth. Not like Joh-

Dean stood up resolutely and pushed the thoughts aside.

_Lead me._

He walked, letting the ever-growing feeling of hopelessness lead him. As his feet fell one before the other, he felt terror, and anger, and above all else, insurmountable pain.

A kindred spirit.

He smacked his nose into a wall. There was screeching coming from behind it, loud and unbearable. His hands scrabbled for a handle, a lock, _anything_ to free this poor creature. He felt lines crisscrossing a solid door and scratched them out. The screaming stopped.

It didn't occur to him that maybe the creature was in there for a reason until it was too late.

There was a loud yell that brought Dean to his knees. The door slammed open and he felt his body being pressed into the ground, electricity jolting through him with incredible force. Every muscle in his body went rigid and he couldn't move, even as he heard what sounded like alarms begin to blare.

Dean was hit with a huge wave of feeling, something that clearly said, “Help me.”

The creature over him moved and Dean cried out in relief, reaching his hands up to find something - _anything_ to help. He felt short, coarse fur and a - a lion? Shit, was this a _lion?_

His fingers carded up through the mane, his legs twitching with the force coursing through his body. He gritted his teeth and felt steel.

_Fucking animal abusers._

He grasped tightly at the foreign metal and pulled. There was a screech that Dean could now pull apart. It was a roar, and a blare, and a trumpet, and five million other sounds he couldn't name. With a thud, the metal came off, and the electricity died down with the noise.

Dean felt the eerie presence of a lot of angels and screamed as he was lifted up and held tight, skin searing and sizzling as the world swam. For a second - just a second - he felt himself meld into the creature he had saved, felt the energy become him. Then there was the distinct feeling of all the air being sucked out of his lungs, before he gasped in a breath that felt like the first he had ever taken and sat up in a bed.


	34. Chapter 34

Dean took a deep breath and almost sobbed in relief. Bobby’s. He was at Bobby’s.

It was midnight or later, but Dean didn't care. He knew this place like the back of his hand. He opened his door and walked down the steps, following the sounds of voices.

Ah, the three he almost had never heard again.

Almost immediately upon entering the darkened kitchen, he was covered in thrown salt and holy water, accompanied by a lot of screaming.

“ _I TOLD YOU WE SHOULDA BURNED HIM!”_ Bobby yelled.

“ _H_ _E WANTED OUT!”_ Sam responded.

Dean spit out salt and tried to rub the holy water out of his eyes. “Ugh. Good to see you guys, too.”

“Wait… De-... Dean?” Jessica said timidly.

“Uh, yeah.”

“You're… You died…”

“Yeah, and I went to Heaven and got topped by some animal thing and it dragged me back down here.”

There was a beat, then Dean was completely encircled by hugs and frantic crying.

“Good God you were-”

“Everything was so mangled-”

“You could barely tell it was y-”

“Thank _God thank God thank-”_

Dean breathed out slowly, cherishing the feeling of being loved for a moment before clearing his throat. “Ah, yeah, thanks. I know. I died.”

Sam had his lips pressed to Dean’s forehead, tears streaming down his face. “But you're _back_ you’re back you're back-” Sam let out a soft sob. “I thought you were gone forever,” he whispered.

“Nah,” Dean said back, choking up a little. “Takes more than that to get rid of me.”

“Son,” Bobby started, “I'm glad you're back but… isn't this a little weird? Even for us?”

Dean snorted and untangled himself from them. “Says the three weirdos sitting around in the dark. For fuck’s sake, turn on a light or two.” Dean walked over to the switch and flicked it a few times. “Oh, I get it. Switch is broken. If you got a flashlight I can fix it. Or in the morning, I guess.”

“Dean,” Sam said carefully, “it _is_ morning.”

“The lights are on,” Jess said softly.

Dean’s hand froze on the switch as he looked at the total and complete darkness. “Oh…” He ran his hand over his stubble. “Ya know, dude said he took my sight for a bit and I guess I… When I broke out I-...” Dean took a shaky breath.

Dean felt Sam hold his arm. “Hey, it's okay. It'll all be okay.”

Dean looked to the part of the darkness that he thought Sam’s eyes might be. He was probably at his chin, but it was okay. He held out his hands facing each other, fingers apart.

Dean would never know the way the blood drained from Sam’s face as Dean’s grey eyes stared directly into his own.

“No damn cat,” Dean said shakily, “and no damn cradle.”


	35. Chapter 35

“Talk to us, Dean,” Bobby entreated.

Dean sat on the couch, legs pulled to his chest, face buried between his knees. He shook his head no.

Bobby sighed. “Look, you're gonna have to start talking _sometime_.”

Dean held up one hand and pinched his pointer and middle fingers against his thumb. _No._

“You can't see it but I'm signing back yes.”

Dean put his middle finger up instead.

“Alright, that was a poor choice of words. I'm _sorry._ But Dean, we know practically _nothing_ about what happened. You need to tell us.”

Dean raised his head to look at Bobby, realized he still couldn't see shit, closed his eyes, and placed the sign for p against his head, flicking it off into an f. _Fuck off._

He heard the tell-tale smack of Bobby raising his hands and letting them fall in frustration.

“Dean,” he heard Jessica say, “I know this is tough on you. You lost your life and your sight. But you were babbling earlier about angels, and we need to know what happened. And, more than that, we need to know what happened right before. We can't help you if we don't know what's going on. You know that, Dean.”

Dean hid his face again, tapping his fingers to his temple. _I know._

He felt Jessica’s soft hand card lovingly through his hair. “That counts as talking, ya know.”

Dean sighed and repeated the motion.

“So tell us what happened?”

Dean raised his head and said, “Da-”, cutting himself off with a flinch. Dammit, his voice was so _loud._  He squeezed his eyes shut and placed his open hand in the air, thumb against his temple. _Dad._

“What did he do?”

Dean sighed and placed his thumbs firmly against his ears, cutting off almost all sound. “Everything is loud,” he said quietly before removing his hands.

“Dean,” Jessica whispered, hand against his cheek.

“Kidnapped me,” he whispered back. “Drunk. Pulled in front of a semi. I died.”

“Why didn't you fight back?” Jessica whispered.

“Tied up.”

“And… angels?”

“I was in Heaven.” Dean flinched at the memory. “It was so bright and everything hurt to see and this guy was talking in my head. He took my sight so I wouldn't be screaming the entire time. Then he offered me a job.”

“A job?”

“Yeah, as some guy’s 'vessel’. Said I was gonna take down Lucifer.”

“ _Michael_ _?!”_ Sam exclaimed, causing Dean to cover his ears and hiss. “Michael?” Sam tried again, whispering.

“Yeah, that was who I was 'sposed to work for.”

There was quiet.

“They wanted you to start the Apocalypse, then?” Sam asked warily.

Dean shrugged. “I dunno. The guy was trying to give me as little info as possible.”

Jess whispered, “What then?”

Dean furrowed his brow. “Then I walked around for a bit to decide and like… I felt _despair_ so I followed it and I found this giant lion creature thing and I set it free and I woke up here.”

They were all quiet again, so Dean took the momentary lapse to place his index finger against his open hand, then slide it underneath.

He heard Sam chuckle.

“What did he say? I don't know enough for that,” Jessica said in a direction that wasn’t Dean’s.

“He said drug adventure, but ah, acid trip,” Sam responded. “You'll get there, babe.”

Jessica removed her hand from Dean’s face, and Dean was almost shocked at how easily he could feel the sudden drop in temperature.

“I didn't even know you two _knew_ sign until today,” Jess responded, in a tone Dean recognized as pouting.

“Dean always insisted we learn it for hunts. Said it would be useful.”

“And it was,” Dean responded softly.

“You're right. It was.”

Dean sighed and finally opened his eyes, looking around at the absolute nothingness. “What time is it?” he asked.

He heard a shuffle of clothing. “About noon.”

“How long was I out?”

“A few hours. We found you last night.”

Dean rubbed his face. “Feels like a few _lifetimes.”_ Dean looked down at his hands, remembered he couldn't see them, and began absently tracing the lines with his fingertips instead. “Who knows?”

“What?” Sam asked. “That you went to Heaven? Just us.”

“No, who knows that I died?”

“Well, they wouldn't let us take you until they pronounced you dead but… I mean, that didn't take long. You um… there were…”

“Multiple pieces?”

Sam gulped. “Um, yeah. Yeah.”

Dean frowned. “Don't dwell on it. I'm okay now.”

“Somehow.”

“So who knows that I'm dead, Sam?”

“We told them to keep your name confidential. So, very few people.”

“I'm asking about Babs, you dork.”

“Oh, um… she…. She knows.”

Dean groaned. “Goddammit.”

“She was… You and Dad were about two hours out of Palo Alto when… And she was headed back from visiting a friend and…”

Dean felt something terrible deep in his gut. “She found me.”

“Yeah. She… She called us. She was kinda… in hysterics.”

Dean absently touched things on the side table. “I’ve gotta tell her,” he said.

“Tell her what?”

He picked up a book. “Everything. She deserves to-...” Dean paused with the book still open in his hands.

“Dean?” Sam asked.

Dean stood up suddenly, book clutched to his chest. “I've got to-” He stopped talking and briskly walked away, brushing shoulders with Sam. He promptly tripped and fell on his face. “GODDAMMIT!” He kicked at the chair. “ _PUSH YOUR DAMN CHAIRS IN!”_

“Dean,” Jess said softly, a tinge of sadness in her voice. He felt her take the book from him. “I can read it to you.”

Dean heard Sam inhale sharply and Bobby whisper, “Shit.” He felt his eyes burn and hot tears track down his face. His hands were shaking, and he felt Jess’s hand on his shoulder before he lurched forward and hugged her tight, sobbing into her shoulder. Her lips kissed his cheek, and he heard the swish of her hair against her shirt as she turned to look at Sam.

“Let's-” Sam’s voice broke and he cleared his throat. “Let's find that Braille shit around here somewhere.”


	36. Chapter 36

“I fucking hate this,” Dean grumbled, removing his fingers from the raised bumps.

“I know,” Sam responded, gently grabbing Dean’s hand and putting it back down. “But the sooner you learn it, the sooner you can read again.”

Dean groaned. “Yeah like, certain books! They don't make all books in Braille!”

“I think the college has a center where you can request them.”

“The college thinks I'm dead.” He removed his hand again.

Sam put Dean’s hand right back down. “We kept your name out. They don't think anything. Now, try again.”

Dean sighed dramatically, “H.”

“G.”

Dean furrowed his brow. “Uh, no, that's an H. Three dots in a short L shape.”

“There are four dots in a box. G.”

Dean whipped his head towards Sam, teeth gritted. “It's. An. H. Feel. _Three dots._ ”

Sam pushed Dean’s hand away. “Okay so, one of the dots has been levelled.”

Dean groaned and flopped his head back. “How the _fuck_ am I supposed to learn it like this?!”

“Well, I'm _sorry_ -” Sam took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “I'm sorry that the books are so old. We’ll get some new ones soon.” There was a brief silence before Sam chuckled, “Was I this bull-headed when you taught me to read?”

“Yes,” Dean grumbled.

Sam leaned back on the couch beside Dean. “We’ll make it through this, alright?”

Dean grunted in response.

“Is there something _other_ than the blindness that's bothering you?”

Dean hunched his shoulders.

“Dean.”

“Okay. Fine. Did you wanna talk about how Dad got me killed, or how he kidnapped me, or how _fucking angels_ were trying to trick me? Or maybe you wanna talk about how you're kinda stuck with me now? Or _maybe_ we should talk about how I freed some kind of mythical beast from Heaven? Or - Ooo! I know! Let's talk about how _I can't get my degree now._ Take your pick.”

“Well we can definitely talk about that last one. You can still get your degree. There are audio books, ya know.”

“Tests.”

“Can be administered orally.”

Dean scrunched his nose. “Ew, Sammy.”

“Not like that, Dean.”

“Not gonna deep-throat my professors for a degree.”

Sam sighed. “Should we talk about _that_ then? About James?”

Dean flinched. “ _Hell_ no.”

“Dean, you've been putting this off for mon-”

“ _I SAID_ **_NO_** _!”_ Dean yelled, and then promptly groaned at how loud his words were. He sighed. “Look. He was dead the whole damn time. Just a demon-animated corpse. That's all there is to know.”

“You loved him.”

Dean was silent.

“C’mon, Dean. You of all people should know what happens when you keep all this shit in.”

“Yeah. You become Dad.”

“Not how I was gonna phrase it…”

Dean snorted and absently began tracing his fingers over the book pages again. “The only other thing I have to say about it is that I maybe shoulda come out of the closet before y'all met him.”

Sam laughed. “So is that what this is?”

“Sure. Why the hell not. The world is spiraling closer and closer to the Apocalypse, we are all going to die, and I'm bisexual.”

Dean didn't hear a response, so he went back to trailing his fingers across the page, bump after bump, until he hit Sam’s hand. “Move, bitch. I'm reading.”

“Then read my hand, jerk.”

Dean ran his fingers over Sam’s hand, feeling out the shape of it. Left hand. Palm up. Thumb out, pointer finger out, pinky out. Middle and ring finger in. Dean’s hand stalled.

_I love you._

“You're such a fucking sap. How you ever got a girlfriend is way beyond my understanding,” Dean griped, even as he matched his fingers up with Sam’s.

“Hey, babe?” Jess’s voice rang out from the hallway.

“Hm?” Sam responded, not moving his hand.

She snorted, “Y'all are cute. Um, I was wondering if maybe you could make a grocery run?”

Sam shrugged. “Ah, sure. Dean, you wanna come?”

“And stumble all around the store? No thanks.”

“I'll get you pie if you come,” Sam sing-songed.

Dean paused to consider it. “Okay. But only for pie.” He closed the book and sat it on the side table. “What all do you need, Jess?”

“Oh! Um, well… We need eggs, you probably need a cane, um and a-”

“-don't need a cane-”

“-pregnancy test?”


	37. Chapter 37

Dean held onto the shopping cart for dear life as Sam led the front end, weaving between aisles faster than Dean thought was safe.

Or maybe that was just because he would be a sitting duck if he lost hold of the buggy.

“Dean, what am I supposed to do?”

Dean felt the cart speed up and inwardly groaned, upping his pace. “It's okay, man. We’ve all had pregnancy scares before. No big deal.”

“It is a _huge_ deal!” Sam responded.

Dean winced. “Alright, alright. What are you so worried about? You and Jess are like, Dream Team.”

“I _just_ turned twenty-one! Two months ago I couldn't even buy alcohol!!”

“Sure you could.”

“ _Legally,_ Dean.”

“Meh,” Dean shrugged. “Look, you've just g-” Dean was cut off with an “oof” as Sam suddenly stopped the cart. “Warn a fella, bitch.”

Dean waited for the responding _jerk,_  but didn't receive one. “Ah. This the aisle?”

“This is the aisle. Damn, there are so many. Which do I get?”

Dean stuck his hands out in the blind hope that there would be some Braille somewhere, even though he still sucked at it.

There wasn't.

“Um,” Dean started, straightening the stuff he had knocked over with his hands, “get like three. Sometimes they have false positives.”

“Why do you even know this?”

Dean hunched in on himself. “Um, Rhonda Hurley.”

“The older girl you dated?”

“Yeah Sam, some of us _like_ older women.”

“I'm only eight months older than Jess.”

“Right. Anyways. Yeah. Pregnancy scare with her. Big time.”

Sam almost laughed. “What, you? Mr. Champion of One Night Stands didn't use protection?”

“Okay look here smartass, _she_ was calling the shots and we were both clean and honestly I was lucky that I even remembered my _name_ by the end. Besides, it wasn't… It wasn't _exactly_ a one night stand.”

“So, what? You almost got your actual girlfriend pregnant?”

Dean hunched his shoulders in, suddenly very interested in finding something to read with his fingers. “I did.”

“Did what?” Dean heard the rattle of boxes as Sam tried to pick a few out.

“Did get her pregnant. She um, lost it pretty early on.”

The rattling stopped. “Is that why you kept trying to make us stay in that town?”

“I… yeah.”

“Oh. I'm… I'm sorry.”

Dean shrugged. “So it goes.” He cleared his throat some. “Alright Sammy, just go ahead and pick some out. The sooner you do, the sooner you figure out if I'm the best uncle ever or not.”

Sam sighed and Dean heard boxes hit the buggy. “On to eggs.”

Dean reached out for the buggy handle and missed it completely.

“I'm just… I'm so scared, Dean. What if I'm a terrible father? What if… what if I'm Dad? What if-”

“Sam.”

Sam stopped rambling. “Oh! Oh shit! I'm sorry!” The shopping cart wheeled back over and Dean grabbed ahold this time.

“It's okay. Trust me, man. You won't be Dad.”

“How… How do you know?”

“Dad was never concerned about the person he was becoming and you are.”

Sam was quiet a moment before responding softly, “Okay.”

Dean followed the cart. “Hey Sam?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want it to be positive or negative?”

“I… I'm not sure. Now's not really the best time for a-”

“Sam. You are sure. I know you, so which is it?”

“I…” Sam sighed. “Positive.”

“Then let's skip the eggs. You've got a potential baby mama to go see.”


	38. Chapter 38

Dean waited patiently with Bobby at the kitchen table while Sam waited by the bathroom upstairs. Bobby had handed him a beer and, after a few unsuccessful attempts, Dean figured out he had to hold it by the neck to  _ not _ poke his eye out.

“You doin’ okay, son?” Bobby asked after a bit.

“Doin’ fine, Bobby.”

Dean heard Bobby huff. “Can you try and  _ not  _ lie for a bit?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “We got more important problems on our hands than my delicate sensibilities.”

“You know, it's not illegal to have more than one problem at a time.”

Dean frowned. “I'm gonna see if Babs would be okay if I moved in with her for a bit. I could find  _ some _ way to pay rent for her, I'm sure.”

“Why move?”

“Little apartment with a  _ baby _ on the way? Can't stay there, Bobby.  _ Won't _ stay there.”

“Fine. You gonna man up and get a damn cane?”

“Don't need a damn cane,” Dean grumbled.

“You're right,” Bobby agreed sarcastically. “You can just stick to the walls and trip over stairs and run into shit all the time. Good plan, really.”

“I also don't need your sass,” Dean said, a smile pulling at the edges of his mouth.

“What did I just say about lying?”

Dean actually laughed this time. “Why don't you just move to Cali with us, Bobby? What's left for you here?”

Dean heard the soft  _ clunk _ of a bottle being sat down. “I've always lived here. It's home.”

“Buildings ain't home, Bobby. People are.”

“Did you just turn my own damn words against me?”

“Hey, I listen from time to time!” Dean prided himself on Bobby’s soft chuckle.

“Well I'll be damned. The kid has ears.”

“Yeah and you know what? Even without my eyes I could still whoop your ass at pool.”

“I'll think about it, alright?”

Dean beamed at Bobby. “Thanks, Pops.” His bottle was to his lips when he realized what he kinda sorta said, and he was two swallows in when he realized he didn't care.

One perk of not being able to see people was that Dean didn't feel so intimidated anymore. He could say whatever he wanted and not have to face the way people would look at him. So, that in mind, Dean blurted out, “I shoulda asked you to adopt me and Sammy when we were younger.”

Bobby never got the chance to respond, because the door to the kitchen opened and Dean heard two sets of feet walk in.

“Well?” Dean prompted.

Jess responded, “I'm pregnant!”


	39. Chapter 39

Dean bit his bottom lip. “I think I hear a smile. Do I?”

Jess laughed good-naturedly. “Yes. _Yes!_ I'm grinning so hard and I honestly can't stop!”

Dean grinned back and sat his bottle down, standing up. “Okay in that case I have to hug you.”

There was a brief second before Dean felt Jess’s hair rub against his chin and smelled cucumber lime shampoo. He wrapped his arms around her. “Happy for you, kiddo,” he said softly.

Jess snorted, “I don't think you can call me kiddo anymore, bro.”

“Please. You're gonna be eighty-two and chasing my dork of a brother around the nursing home and I will _still_ be calling you kiddo.”

Dean felt strong arms encircle them both. Jess hummed in appreciation and snuggled closer to Dean. “Is this what's it's like to have a brother?”

Sam chuckled in Dean’s ear, tightening his hold on them. “A hundred percent yes.”

“Well damn,” Bobby grumbled. Dean heard him scoot his chair back, and a last pair of arms wrapped around them all. “Really? We’re doing _group hugs_ now?”

Dean had always thrived on affection, so he pulled one arm out from around Jess and used it to pull Bobby in closer. “Damn I hope so,” he remarked.

Bobby fidgeted a bit. “Look, I'm really happy for you two, but can I _please_ get out of this hug fest now?”

“No,” came three simultaneous voices.

Bobby stilled, laughed softly, and finally gave in. “You two are gonna have a beautiful baby. Proud of y'all.”

There was a sudden sharp jab of sadness in Dean’s heart, but he pushed it away with sarcasm. “As long as it has soft hair we’re good. Not kidding. You better condition that shit.”

Jess giggled and said, “What? With _Sam’s_ hair? I'm gonna be lucky if I get a single haircut in ever!”

Dean stilled. “Noooooo,” he groaned, yanking out his other hand and running it through Sam’s hair. “You told me you were gonna cut it last night!”

“Okay but a _lot_ of shit went down. I'll get to it.”

Dean flicked his forehead before returning his arm to around Jess. “I can literally hear you lying,” he grumbled.

Jess took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “So what now?”

The group hug slowly dissolved.

“Now,” Sam began, “we start fresh.”

“With a good night’s sleep?” Jess asked hopefully.

Dean could hear the smile in Sam’s voice. “Sounds perfect.”

Dean groaned. “Is it really night already?”

“'Fraid so, hon.”

Dean stretched his arms. “Alright. Okay. I'm not dealing with those damn stairs again so I'm gonna sleep on the couch down here. G'night.”

Dean wasn't prepared for the quick hug Sam wrapped him in.

Sam pulled back and pressed his _I love you_ hand against Dean’s face. “Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean returned the gesture. “Goodnight, Sammy.”

Later on, Dean laid awake on the couch. He couldn't see anything and his body refused to believe it was night, even though he had snuck outside and heard the crickets and bullfrogs. He huffed and shoved the pillow down before laying his head on it again. Only a few moments more passed before Dean heard a door open and the hurried steps of his lumbering brother.

 _Finally._ It was morning.

“Get your shit,” Sam said flatly, clicking on what was probably a light switch.

“Um?”

“You know where it is, right?” Lots of shuffling.

“I… Yeah. Yeah I do. Are… are you and Jess okay?”

Sam stopped for a moment before the tell-tale sound of books being dropped one by one reached Dean’s ears. “We’re fine. Hurry.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You don't sound fake-confused so you're not lying. But I'm not moving til you tell me what's up.”

There were soft steps and a hand carded through Dean’s hair. “Dean,” Jess whispered, “we have to go. All of us. Right now.”

“All of-”

The soft chinks of zippers hitting metal teeth sounded over cloth landing by Dean's feet.

“We can explain on the way,” Bobby gruffed.

There were noises everywhere as everyone was packing up God-knows-what, and Dean covered his ears. “ _Can you all just fucking_ **_stop_ ** _for a minute?!”_

The noises ceased.

“God!” Dean snapped. “Someone tell me what the _fuck_ is going on!”

Sam snapped back, “We don't have ti-”

Dean pushed himself off the couch, attempting to angle himself to glare at Sam. “No. _No._ I don't have _any idea_ what's going on anymore at _any_ time! In case you forgot: I'M FUCKING BLIND! So can you _please_ take that into consideration and for once just _use your goddamn words!”_

Dean heard a low growl emit from Sam. Eh, he was about ten degrees too far left.

“Zachariah,” Sam said through gritted teeth.

Dean paused. “I don't think I ever told you his name.”

“You didn't. Dean. I _fucking watched_. I watched you get hit by the damn semi _two days before it happened.”_

Dean felt his fingers go cold. “How… what?”

Sam’s hands were gripping Dean’s shoulders tightly. “I dreamt it. And I told Jess and we decided that was ridiculous. And then. It. Fucking. Happened. And now I dreamt that something big and dangerous is headed our way. So **_move._** ” Sam gave Dean a not-so-gentle shove.

Dean was quiet as he packed up his few belongings, grabbing the Braille books as well. As Sam and Bobby loaded the two cars, Dean snuck upstairs to his old room, feeling around for a loose board.

_Ah. There._

He pried it up and felt around for a small box. It was whittled into an intricate design that he didn't have time to travel his fingers down. He simply stuffed it in his jacket and slotted the board back into place.

“Dean!” Sam yelled from downstairs.

Dean went down the stairs as fast as he dared, missing the final three and crashing into Sam’s arms.

Sam sat him back on his feet, dusting him off a little. “You're getting a damn cane,” Sam grumbled.

Dean simply nodded.

Sam took his hand and led him outside, holding tightly. “You're riding with Bobby.”

Dean nodded again.

Sam sighed. “Look, I'm sorry about earlier and we can talk later but we have to move _now.”_

Dean held his hand out for Bobby, who ushered him into the passenger seat of an old pick-up.

“Meet you in Palo Alto,” Bobby called out, starting up the engine and pulling off.

Dean’s hands shook, so he latched them firmly to his seat belt the entire drive there.


	40. Chapter 40

“Kid.”

Dean shook his head.

“ _Kid._ ”

Dean clutched the seat belt tighter.

Bobby sighed. “What's wrong?”

“Is it really that difficult?” Dean mumbled quietly.

It was Bobby’s turn to be quiet.

A few minutes passed by before Bobby told Dean, “You don't have to worry about that anymore.”

“Well I'm _sorry_ it's only been one day and I'm still nervous to ride in a fucking truck!” Dean snapped, wincing at his own voice. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing for shit that ain't your fault!” Bobby's voice was loud, but something about it cut through Dean’s thoughts.

Dean took a few deep breaths before slowly unraveling his fingers from the stretch of canvas. They were slightly numb from how tight he had been holding. “I guess… I guess it'll just take a while.”

“Of course it will, son. But time’ll heal all wounds.”

“Thanks, Bokonon.”

“...Who?”

Dean sighed. “Nevermind.”

“No, no. I wanna know. Who's Bokonon?”

Dean fidgeted in his seat. “See, if I tell you who Bokonon is then I also have to explain who Papa was and _then_ I would have to tell you about Felix and it would just be this big long thing.”

“We got nothin’ but time.”

Dean bit his bottom lip. “It's a book.”

Bobby snorted. “Obviously. Just tell me the book plot, I guess.”

Dean hunched in on himself. “I've got it all memorized.”

“You… You memorized an entire book?!”

Dean nodded.

It took a second, then Bobby laughed. “Alright, then. Go on. Read me the book, Professor Dean.”

A huge grin spread across Dean’s face. “Okay. Here goes.” Dean cleared his throat before launching right in. “ _Nothing in this book is true-_ ”

Bobby listened attentively the entire way back to Palo Alto, even through gas station stops. He and Dean got out at the last stop before arriving, waiting for Jess and Sam to catch up. Bobby leaned against the side of the truck while Dean sat in the truck bed.

Another thing Dean would never see: How Bobby’s eyes softened as Dean told the story emphatically, his hands moving and his eyes wide and bright. It reminded Bobby of when Dean was a kid and he’d explain the latest episode of Scooby-Doo to him. Innocence. That's what it was. Pure innocence.

Sam and Jess pulled up, and Sam closed his door and sighed. “Alright, Dean, let's t-”

“Shush,” Bobby told Sam absently. “We’re almost to the end. Hold on for a sec.”

“But-”

“ _Shush!”_

Dean, oblivious, kept telling his story, smile lodged firmly on his face:

“ _‘May I ask what you're thinking?’_ _  
_ _  
_ _'I am thinking, young man, about the final sentence for The Books of_ _Bokonon. The time for the final sentence has come.’_ _  
_ _  
_ _‘Any luck?’_ _  
_ _  
_ _He shrugged and handed me a piece of paper._ _  
_ _  
_ _This is what I read:_ _  
_ _  
_ _If I were a younger man, I would write a history of human stupidity; and_ _I would climb to the top of Mount McCabe and lie down on my back with my history for_ _a pillow; and I would take from the ground some of the blue-white poison that_ _makes statues of men; and I would make a statue of myself, lying on my_  
_back, grinning horribly, and thumbing my nose at You Know Who."_

Dean grinned and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“What? That's it? That's the ending?” Bobby asked, bewildered.

“Yes. Yes! And it's so damn frustrating because I haven't figured it out yet,” Dean responded, sighing in relief at finally having someone to vent to about this.

“So the damn prophet told everyone else to die and then said he was too old to die himself?”

“ _Right?!_ ”

“Wow. Fuck him.”

“Oh there was a whole schtick about it being all lies n shit, but like… I dunno. Maybe it means that even God lies? Lord knows angels do,” Dean snorted. “They talk like fucking _card sharks._ ”

“You mentioned something about some big beast earlier, too. Animal abusers, right?”

“Fuck. _Fuck._ Freeing that thing was the only thing I did up there that felt _right,_  ya know? Damn. Probably made Heaven all pissed, too. Fuck. I'm going to Hell.”

Bobby clapped Dean on the shoulder. “Hey. You'll be in good company.”

Dean snorted before grabbing Bobby’s hand and hopping down from the truck bed. “Alright baby bro, what's up?” Dean asked, facing Sam.

Sam’s voice rang out from behind him, “Let's just talk over breakfast, okay?”

Shit. Dean did a 180. “Okay, Sammy.” Dean held out his hand and put on his biggest grin. “Lead the way.”


	41. Chapter 41

Sam led Dean to the table, instructing him to slide into the booth.

“You two are cute,” the waitress said.

Sam sputtered and released Dean’s hand. “We’re _brothers!_ ”

“Oh? Oh! I'm sorry,” the girl said hurriedly. “Um, here are your menus!”

Dean felt a large sheet of laminated paper be placed in his hands.

He raised an eyebrow at it. “Ah, thank you. I'll just… read this.”

Jessica’s small snort meant he would continue to make jokes until the end of time.

Sam groaned. “Jess, quit. You're encouraging him!” Sam sighed and took Dean’s menu. “I'll have the chef’s salad, and he will have the Tenth Avenue Burger.”

Jess and Bobby ordered, and the waitress's heel clicks meant she left the table.

“Ooooooo, Sammy. I get all tingly when you take control like that,” Dean teased, grin growing wider at Jess’s giggle.

Sam huffed in irritation. “Look, Dean. We need to actually talk.”

Dean clucked his tongue. “Yeah we do. You heard the end of _Cat’s Cradle_ and not the beginning. I'll have to recite the rest to you.”

“Dean.”

Dean sighed. “Look, man. I'm in a good mood. Bring it up when I'm not.”

“I just… I'm sorry I pushed you.”

Dean snorted. “We push each other all the time. It's what brothers do.”

“Yeah, but now you're-”

Dean kicked Sam under the table.

“Um, _ow!!”_

He flashed a grin at Sam. “See? Now we’re even. And I swear if you start treating me different I'll post your baby pics all over campus.”

Jess squealed. “I wanna see some baby Sammy!”

Bobby snorted. “Well, ya can't. All the pictures burned and John wasn't big on photography.”

Dean reached into his jacket quietly and removed the small wooden box. “Actually,” Dean started, “Mom gave this to me after Sammy was born and told me to keep it safe. So I hid it in Dad’s truck. Made sense as a kid.” He held it out for a little longer. “Well, someone take it!”

He felt it be removed from his hand and the small metal clasp rasped open.

“Are these-”

“Wedding pictures, dating pictures, baby pictures. The whole shebang.”

“And… _Breakfast of Champions?_ ”

Dean smiled a little. “That's my favorite book. It still says Mary Campbell in the front.”

Dean heard the soft sound of a few pictures being spread out.

“So,” Jessica said softly, “This is John.”

Sam let out a soft breath. “Yeah. You've never met him before, huh?”

Dean heard a frown in Jess’s voice as she said, “There aren't very many of him and Mary after the wedding. It's all her and Dean.”

Dean shrugged. “Their marriage wasn't exactly a happy one.”

“What?” Sam asked. “Dad always said they had the perfect marriage.”

“It wasn't perfect until after she died.”

The waitress brought their food out. There were four distinct _clunks_ of plates hitting the wooden table.

“You guys enjoy!” she said.

Everyone was quiet, and Dean had no way of knowing they were staring at the pictures.

“Well!” Dean announced. “It sure _looks_ great!”


	42. Chapter 42

They got to Palo Alto around nightfall. Bobby insisted that he would find a hotel room for the night and Jessica hugged him goodbye. Dean listened to the truck roll off fondly.

“Whelp!” Dean said suddenly, clapping his hands together. “I'm off to see Babs!”

“Alright, let me grab my running shoes and-”

“No, Sammy. I got this. I've walked to her house _loads_ of times.”

“I don't think-”

“Look, I've got my phone. If I need help, I'll call. And I can get her to drive me back or something. It's fine.” Dean was already walking away before Sam and Jess could tell him _no._

He wasn't lying; Dean really _did_ know the way by heart. It took a little bit longer than usual because some _douchebag_ parked his bike in the middle of the sidewalk, but before long he was knocking on Babs’s door.

It was more a formality at this point, anyway. Dean knew where she hid her spare key. He lifted the second stone to the right and easily unlocked her door.

“Babs?” he called out, shutting the door behind him. Damn, he should have checked to see what time it was.

“Dean?” a male voice rang out.

“Oh dear God, you see him, too?” Now, THAT one was Babs.

Dean stopped cold. “Babs. Who all is here?”

“What are you, blind?” the man said.

Dean exhaled slowly, shutting his eyes. “Yes, John, I am. Thanks for that.”

Dean could almost _feel_ the indignation coming off his dad. “I wasn't aware we were on a first name basis, son. In fact, I wasn't aware you were even _alive._ Babs here-”

“-don’t you _dare_ call her that-”

“-was just telling me about how she found you.”

Dean stepped back until his back was against the door in an attempt to feel like the world wasn't shaking. Strong arms wrapped around him.

“I'm so glad you're oka-”

Dean’s fist hit jaw.

Dean heard the uneven steps as John stumbled back. “Wha-” John began.

“We’re taking this outside. Babs doesn't need this in her home.” A thought occurred to him, and he addressed her, “Are you okay?”

“I… You're alive… But I-... I…”

“Are you okay?”

“I'm… He didn't hurt me.”

John snorted. “Do you really think I would _hurt_ your _teacher?”_

Dean tried his best to meet John’s eyes. “No, but you might hurt my mom.” He yanked open the door. “Out.”

He felt John brush past him, and he took a deep, steadying breath. “Babs? I need you to call Sam. And then have him call Bobby. Things might get… messy.”

“Okay.”

Dean shut the door behind him.

The night air was chilly as a slight breeze blew around the two of them.

Dean was surprised to find his arms no longer shaking in terror. They were still. _He_ was still. He couldn't see John's face, and dammit, that just made it easier to say what he had wanted to say this whole time. "You need help."  
  
He heard John's voice - the military one - harshly spit out, "Excuse me?"  
  
"You. Need. Help."  
  
"I don't need any damn-"  
  
"Mentally, Dad. You need help mentally."  
  
Dean heard stunned silence, so he plowed on. "You literally killed me. Actually _killed_ me. And it was not your intention, but it sure as hell was your fault."

“I never-”

“I died, Dad. I went to Heaven and I came back.”  
  
"I… You…” John sputtered. “You think _I'm_  fucked up in the head? What about all the people that are facing monsters because YOU ran away! Your little girlfriend back in Missouri? She was killed in some sorta ghost car accident!"  
  
Dean flinched, took a deep breath, and said, "That is not my fault."  
  
"You weren't there!"  
  
" ** _I'M NOT THE ONLY HUNTER IN THE WORLD_** _ **!"**_ Dean couldn't see John's face, couldn't see any disappointment... Couldn't be afraid. "Can't you see what this life _DOES_ to you?! It makes you crazy! People _DIE_ , Dad! That's life! And it's not a damn person's fault!! It's just... So it goes! And you **_CAN'T_** _fix that!"_  
  
Crickets chirped, and Dean breathed the night air in deeply.  
  
"John-- Dad, you will always be my family, and for that, I'll always care about you. But unless you give up the life - for GOOD - I do not want you anywhere near me. You have a choice to make, and as much as I hate it, I understand if you pick hunting. But if you do, so help me, you have to learn you will _never_ see me again."  
  
Dean heard a few attempts at a new sentence, a harsh swallow, and a car door opening. There was a very soft, very quiet, “I'm sorry, Dean.”

An engine revved away for the last time.  
  
Dean wiped the tears from his own face.


	43. Chapter 43

He had barely opened the door to Babs’s house again before he heard hurried footsteps that stopped before him.

“Dean?” Babs asked shakily.

He bit his bottom lip. “Hi, Mom. Is… Is that okay? Can I call you that?”

“I- _Yes,_ Dean! Oh good Lord, can I hug you? Please?”

“Dear God yes,” Dean breathed, reaching out and pulling her in. Her hair tickled his stubble, and he buried his face in it and hugged her tighter. “I'm sorry.”

“You're sorry? For what?”

“That… it was you. That found me.”

She let out a shaky breath. “You're not the first person I've found like that,” she whispered.

“That's why I'm sorry,” he whispered back.

She pulled back a bit. “How the heck are you even alive, Dean?! I _saw_ you! You were…”

He winced. “I know.”

“Well?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “Um, we… need to sit down. Maybe make some chamomile tea, too.”

“Don't tell me you're a vampire.”

“You're ah… not too far off.”

There was a brief silence, then, “I'll go make tea. Have a seat.”

By the time Sam and Jess all but busted down the door, Dean had lain his soul bare to her. Dean heard Sam’s sigh of relief before he was gathered up in a tight hug.

“I thought…” Sam gulped and started over, “I thought Dad was here.”

Dean frowned. “Yeah, John was here. He won't be coming back, though. _Thanks,_ by the way, for not telling me he was still _alive!"_

He felt Sam flinch against him. “We didn't… think it wise.”

Dean heard Jess address Babs softly, “Did he hurt you?”

Babs snorted. “Who, John? I've faced worse men than him before.”

Sam whispered in Dean’s ear, “Did you tell her yet?”

Dean sighed and pulled back. “Yeah. Yeah, guys. She knows. Took it really well, actually. She - Babs, tell them what you told me.”

Babs lowered her voice conspiratorially, “This does not leave this room. I could lose not only my job, but quite possibly my life.”

“You have our promise of secrecy,” Jess assured her.


	44. The Things They Carried

Dear God, it was so hot. It felt like a frying pan full of water. His shirt clung to his frame and he ran a hand through his choppy hair. It wasn't the best haircut he'd ever had, but it was better than nothing.  
  
He was on patrol, again. It was because he couldn't sleep, and everyone knew it. He tossed and turned, but, for all of that, he couldn't regret enlisting.  
  
Couldn't regret it even as gunshots rang out.  
  
He ran through the jungle's underbelly, shooting at people he didn't know, faces he'd never see... Destroying families he'd never meet.  
  
He tried not to think about that one.  
  
A root ran up and he tripped, sprawling out, arm popping hard. He cried out, and the cry attracted gunfire. Someone nearby returned, and there was quiet.  
  
"Hey, man. Are you okay?"  
  
Firm hands lifted him up, roughly wiping his tears away.  
  
"I-... I-..." He cursed at the rise in his voice, the unintentional softness and the unintentional confession.  
  
The man stared at him, then smiled softly. "I guess you're not Kurt Lewis."  
  
"No..."  
  
"What's your name, sweetheart?"  
  
"Barbara James."

He smiled at the now-her. "I'm Joe Heeren."

She roughly wiped her eyes and winced at the movement. “My damn shoulder popped out.”

Joe huffed and looked around the dark jungle floor. “There may be some enemies nearby. If I pop it back in, can you keep quiet?”

She met his eyes in a challenge as she stuffed her shirt in her mouth.

He raised one eyebrow. “Okay then, Miss. Brace yourself. On three.” He placed one hand firmly against her shoulder. “Three.”

She made a sharp noise that was cut off by the fabric bunched between her teeth. Breathing heavy, she spit it out and stood up. “Thank you, Joe. I would appreciate it if you kept this little… _secret_ between us.” She rotated her arm to check his handiwork.

“Yeah, I'm sure.” He met her harsh glare with uplifted hands. “Hey, hey. I won't tell. How has no one figured it out yet?”

She snorted and picked up her gun, slinging it over her shoulder. “Easy. They all think I'm gay.” She flashed him a grin and began the trek back to camp.

He scrambled after her. “Well hell, if you were a guy, I think I'd hope you were gay, too.” He paused. “Fuck, that came out wrong. I'm not… I was trying to say…”

She shook her head in amusement. “How old are you, Joe?”

He fell into step beside her. “Twenty-two!”

“Didn't know they were sending kids to Vietnam.”

Joe clucked his tongue. “Women and children, I guess.”

She laughed despite herself.

“What about you, Not-Kurt? How old are you?” Joe asked.

“Twenty-eight. Too old for a kid like you,” she teased.

“My dad was ten years older than my mom! It could happen!”

She rolled her eyes. “You just ain't seen boobs in months. Get your head out of your ass.” She let a branch fall back and swat him across the face.

He spit out a few leaves. “Can we at least be friends?”

She stopped and turned around to get a good look at him. He was a bit on the short side, gangly, with a helmet a bit too big and teeth a little too far apart. There was a sheen of sweat on him but, out here, where _wasn't_ there a sheen of sweat?

“You're new.” It wasn't a question.

He nodded enthusiastically. “Just got drafted!”

“Hm.” She went back to walking.

“I have books!” he called after her quietly, trying not to give away their position.

“Don't care for books,” she replied, ducking under a few vines.

“But they're the Braille ones! So you can read them on patrol and not need a giveaway light!”

She rounded on him, backing him into a tree and snarling. “Look, kid. I appreciate the help. I owe ya, and will _continue_ to owe you until democracy wins in this _god-forsaken_ country. But you're gonna learn real quick out here that people die. Don't get close to anyone,” she warned, finally taking a step back.

He raised his nose at her. “Fine. You owe me. I want friendship.”

She groaned. “For fuck's sake…” After a moment, she chuckled softly to herself. “Joe Heeren?” she tried again.

He nodded. “And you're Kurt Lewis,” he responded, winking at her.

She lowered her voice and changed her posture, tilting her head towards the camp. “We ain't far, soldier. I'm still on duty and the gunfire’s stopped.”

“Well, lemme grab a book and I'll meet ya at your post!” He ran off into the night, and Barbara rolled her eyes.

And fuck if she didn't smile, too.

\---

“Lewis!!” a voice rang out across the camp.

Barbara groaned from her station at the map, her superiors crowded around her. She jammed her knife into _Buon Ma Thuot_ and shot Joe a harsh glare.

“What do you want, Heeren?” she said, voice low and dangerous.

He seemed to suddenly see the men studying the map intently. “I um… I'll… I'll just catch up with you later.”

She waved him along and went back to planning attack strategies.

She had almost forgotten entirely about the little intrusion until supper, when rations were about to be distributed. It seemed like he popped up out of nowhere, right at her elbow.

“Kurt,” he whispered, causing Babs to jump.

“Goddammit, Heeren!” she cursed, ignoring the short glances. “What do you want?”

The little shit was bouncing on his toes. “I got some books in!”

“Whoop-di-doo,” Barbara deadpanned, grabbing her ration and stalking over to a tree.

Her shadow followed her faithfully. “I think they were sent a few months ago but the mail came today! And I got in one that I thought you might like!” He slid down to sit beside her at the base.

She grunted something unintelligible and stuffed food in her mouth. Bland, as always.

“It's about the Dresden bombing! Seeing as you must love war and all, since you volunteered.”

She sighed, “If I read your stupid fucking book, will you let me eat in peace?”

He nodded and fumbled around his pack for a small, wrapped parcel. Babs stuffed another spoonful in her mouth and took it from him, unwrapping the clearly re-wrapped book. “It's in fucking Braille,” she said around her food.

“Can you read it? Do I need to teach you? I _love_ books and I thought it was cool to read in the dark and-”

She clapped a hand over his mouth. “Shut up for like, ten seconds.” She removed her hand and ran it across the cover. “The fuck is _Slaughterhouse-Five?”_

Joe shrugged. “I dunno. I haven't read it, yet.”

Babs sighed, “That was only seven seconds. How have you not been shot yet? The VK must be able to hear you coming a mile away.”

“I'm stealthy,” he said as he wiggled his eyebrows.

She snorted. “Yeah, 'bout as stealthy as a bull in a China shop.”

She looked out among the soldiers glancing their way and shoved a few bites in her mouth, head down. “Thanks, Heeren. I'll read it tonight.” She stood up suddenly and tossed Joe the remainder of her ration.

He caught it easily. “Woah hey, where's the fire?”

“Actually, in this line of work, it's called 'dishonorable discharge’. Best not to be seen alone with me.”

Joe kicked at her leg. “Why? 'Cause they'll think I'm gay?”

“Something like that.”

He looked up at her, youthful mischief sparkling in his eyes. “What if I kissed you right now? We could both leave and get out of this stupid heat.”

She barked out a laugh. “Dammit, Joe. What am I gonna do with you?”

“I mean, I’m partial to my plan.”

She smacked his head lightly with the book and gathered up her stuff, setting up for another long night of keeping watch.

After her shift, after… _the book_ , she laid in her tent and stared at the torn roof.

She remained numb all throughout the next day, avoiding everyone and everything.

She started her next night shift alone.

She had never felt doubt before. She knew what she wanted, why she was here. Except now, she didn't. Thanks to-

\---

Joe was woken up from where he was still propped against a tree, book laying across his lap. What woke him up was the hard slap across his face.

His eyes snapped open. “What the he-”

“You fucking bastard,” Barbara hissed, hitting him with the book.

“Ow, _ow,_ hey! Calm down, Babs!” he responded as quietly as he could, glancing around. “Explain to me what I did.”

She thrust the book into his hands. “Read it.”

“Wha-”

“I said _read it._ I'm not moving until you finish that… that… _fucking hellish_ book.”

He let out a long breath and looked around. No one was nearby, and damn sure no one was awake.

“Okay.”

He read it as Barbara watched the slight changes on his face in the dark, as his eyebrows furrowed together and the midnight moon caught the… the… the _goddamn glistening_ in his eyes.

The sun hadn't quite risen when Joe finally looked at her.

“I'm sorry,” he told her. She snarled at him and grabbed his arm, hauling him deep into the jungle's underbelly.

“You're sorry?!” she hissed when they were out of earshot.

Joe winced.

“Do you even _understand_ what's going on in my head right now? Poo-tee-weet, all hours of the day! What does war mean? Nothing! What is there intelligent to say about it? _Nothing!_ Why _the fuck_ would you show me this?!” She kept her voice quiet but sharp. Even away from camp, enemies could be lurking.

Joe threw up his hands. “I didn't know!”

“You didn't know? Oh, well, phew, that's a relief! I'm just over here thinking about going _fucking AWOL_ but you didn't know! Wow, that clears it all right up!”

Joe groaned and held his head in his hands. “I'm still processing. Give me a minute.”

“It took me _a whole fucking-_ ”

“ _Give me a goddamn minute!_ ” Joe said just a little too loudly.

Barbara huffed, but kept quiet for a bit.

Quiet enough that they both heard a twig snap from far left.

Barbara’s eyes caught the barely rising sun as they snapped towards the noise. She uncrossed her arms and placed a finger to her lips, motioning for Joe to follow her. He took out his gun and nodded.

They moved slowly and quietly through the undergrowth, creeping forward and forward until-

There it was.

It.

It…

A head turned sharply their way. Its eye sockets were empty and its nose was all but decayed. Impossibly long and sharp teeth filled a mouth that was blood red from the Viet soldier it was feasting on.

Oh, and its entire body was gone.

The soldier reached out and wheezed, “Leyak. Chạy.”

The life drained out of his eyes, and Barbara screamed.

Joe was yanking her back and firing at the head as it flew off towards town, guts and nerves and gore trailing behind.

Barbara and Joe ran back to camp, collapsing in Joe's tent.

“What - the _fuck-”_ Joe wheezed.

“ _It was a goddamn head!”_ Barbara responded, gasping in air and shaking.

They caught their breath, both unable to process.

“What was - do you speak-”

“No,” Barbara responded. “I only know 'fire’ and 'cease fire’.”

“Leyak? Is that what he said?”

Barbara squeezed her eyes shut and nodded.

“That sounds - oh fuck, hold on,” Joe murmured, digging around in his backpack for something. “I- yeah. Yeah. It's in this book.”

Babs cracked open one eye at a blessedly non-Braille book, lit by Joe's flashlight. “ _Traditions and Folklore of Vietnam?”_

Joe shrugged. “I thought…”

Babs grabbed it and grumbled, “What? That you had better understand the people you're gonna murder?” She ignored Joe’s wince and thumbed through it until she saw the picture. “This. It was this damn thing. A… Leyak. Okay. It… eats people. And it disguises itself as a person. And… it has to stuff its guts back into its fake body every night when it returns. And… it can only be killed by salting the fake body.”

“What the fuck,” Joe whispered, echoing Barbara’s thoughts.

They both stared at the picture for a moment.

“So, AWOL?” Joe suggested.

Babs nodded. “Yep. AWOL. Get your shit. Let's go. Nearest town is a thirty minute hike.”

\---

They made it to the town just after sunrise, the villagers only just awakening.

It was hard to ignore the blood trail through the main road.

“Babs, what if we just-”

“No. Keep moving. We gotta find a way home.”

The trail led right to a wooden doorstep.

“Babs-”

“For fuck's sake, Joe! _No!"_

He grabbed her arm and turned her around. “Babs. Listen to me.”

She met his eyes and was surprised to find her own terror echoed there.

“This is scary. This is really _fucking_ scary. This crazy shit exists and so do we and I don't know what I'm doing anymore.”

“Me neither,” she whispered.

“And no one else is gonna understand when I lock the door fifteen times or sleep with a rifle by my bed.”

“Don't forget you gotta keep a shit ton of salt on you.”

“Damn, I don't have the salary for that.”

Barbara smiled, then grinned, then laughed, and held onto Joe as terrified tears streamed down her face.

“I'm not okay,” she told him.

“Neither am I.” He paused. “Can we be not-okay together?”

She nodded pitifully. “I'm a wreck,” she admitted.

“Me too. Hey, Not-Kurt?”

“Hm?”

“Marry me?”

She pulled back to look at him. At the fear in his eyes, and the shaky smile, and the youthful glow on his cheeks. A tear fell down her face to match the one that fell down his own.

She nodded.

“Can we be dishonorably discharged now?”

She nodded again.

He pulled her in for a deep, harsh kiss that was as salty as it was sweet, and their commanding officer cleared his throat behind them.


	45. Chapter 45

Dean sighed, sinking down into the couch at the apartment. He had… always wondered what happened to the people that didn't die, the… survivors. He felt a little better, now that he knew they made pancakes and found love. It was like a weight that had settled deep in his chest was lifted.

He felt a small hand shake up his hair.

“Hey dork, you need a shower,” Jess’s teasing voice rang out.

“You need help?” Sam joked.

Dean held up his middle finger.

“No, I- dude okay, that was a genuine question. You gonna be okay or what?”

Dean felt his face heat up. “You're not helping me take a shower.”

“Obviously,” Sam snarked, the eyeroll audible in his voice. “But I'm sure there are tons of pretty girls on this campus that wouldn't mind at all.”

Dean thought about it, then shrugged. “I like the way you think but… not tonight. I'll be fine. It's a _shower_. What could go wrong?”

Well.

Fuck. _Fuck._ Was this his shampoo? It kinda _felt_ like his shampoo bottle. Dean bit his lip and just went for it.

Okay. Now conditioner.

He sat the shampoo bottle back down, consequently knocking off every other bottle in the entire goddamn shower.

“Dammit,” he said under his breath.

“Dean?” Sam called.

“I'm fine!” Dean yelled back, scrabbling around on the shower floor for a bottle.

 _Why are they all the same_ **_fucking_ ** _shape?!_

Screw it. Surely this one was conditioner.

…

Nope. Nope. It was sudsing. _Dammit!_

Dean turned to put the bottle on the shelf and felt out for his loofah and body wash.

Hey, sue him for wanting to be soft.

He washed his right arm, then his left. He paused.

_Huh. Odd._

He sat the loofah back down and ran his hand across his left shoulder.

Nothing.

His entire shoulder was numb.

He felt along his skin, trying to parse out the shape. Halfway up his neck was completely sensationless. Down to his mid-bicep. All across his chest. In tendrils across his back and stomach.

“The fuck…?” Dean whispered softly, fingers mapping out the raised flesh. He rubbed at his shoulder in an attempt to find feeling, but none came. He let out a stiff breath and went back to washing, deciding to leave that issue until later.

After probably washing his entire body with conditioner, Dean dried off and tried again for feeling. And again, nothing. He huffed and slipped into his pajamas and out of the bathroom.

Jess had the TV set to Dr. Sexy. Dean would know that theme song anywhere.

She snorted. “Did you use my shampoo?”

Dean ran a hand through his hair, plopping down beside her. “Maybe? Probably. Twice, I think.”

“Have fun with your curls, then,” she said around some kind of food.

Dean sniffed the air. “Popcorn?”

Jess grabbed his hand and sat it in the bowl. “Yup. You know the characters’s voices, right?”

He tossed a handful in his mouth. “By heart.”

“I'll explain any silent important moments.”

His mouth was full, so he put his fingertips to his lips and traced the air in a curve down. _Thanks._

She ruffled his hair. “The waves look good on you.”

He felt his own hair. “This is gonna be fucking hell to deal with later. What do you even use?”

“Curly shampoo.”

Dr. Sexy started talking and both of them shut up.

The first commercial break saw Jess explaining to Dean how Dr. Sexy was staring at Jameson, to which Dean responded with an exasperated groan.

“Jameson is _supposed_ to fall for _Luke!”_ Dean explained, facing Jess.

“But then who will Dr. Sexy fall for?!”

“No one! His true love is his work!”

Sam sighed from somewhere in the room. “Guys. I can't take these lore books to the library so will you two _please_ keep it down?”

Dean waved a hand absently. “You'll be fine.”

“Dean, there are literally _angels and demons_ after us. We have to do _something!”_

“Sammy, no offense, but it's _angels and demons._ If they were gonna kill us, they would have done it when we were on the road. We’re fine for a while. Come watch TV.”

“I have so much that I need to-”

“Yeah,” Dean cut him off, “you do. But take a breather, man. A lot happened today.”

There was quiet, then a gruff, “Scootch,” and Sam squeezed himself between them.

“My popcorn,” Dean said sadly, reaching a hand out for it. The crunchy stuff touched his fingers and he grabbed another handful.

“So,” Sam started, “is everyone on this show gay?”

Jess said, “No,” at the same time that Dean said, “Yes.”

“William isn't gay,” Jess told Dean.

“ _William-_ ” Dean paused, considering it a moment. “William is an absolute ray of sunshine and no one on Earth deserves him.”

“Agreed,” Jess conceded. “Maybe we should name the kid William.”

There was quiet. The TV cued canned laughter at a commercial.

“Yeah,” Sam said softly. “Maybe we should.”


	46. Chapter 46

It didn't take very long to move all of Dean’s worldly possessions over to Barbara’s.

He didn't have very many.

Sam pressed a key into the palm of his hand before he pulled Dean into a tight hug. “Anytime you need us, just barge on in. I mean, you can't even be mentally scarred anymore, right?!” Sam teased.

Dean groaned and tried to push Sam away, to no avail. “I can hear a fucking pin drop now, man.”

Sam shrugged. “Knock first.”

Dean laughed and pushed his fist, middle finger raised, gently against Sam’s face. “Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Slender arms encircled them both. “Dorks,” Jess muttered, nuzzling her face into Dean’s shoulder.

“You gonna be okay on your trip?” Dean asked, voice muffled by Sam's shoulder.

Jess shrugged. “Hopefully. We'll see how my family takes the news. You're working with Baxter while I'm gone, right?”

“Right.”

Jess kissed his cheek fondly. “See? We can both be brave together.”

Dean waved goodbye to them until he couldn't hear the car anymore. Babs patted his back gently and handed him Baxter's leash.

“You ready?”

Dean rubbed his forehead and sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess. Baxter's gonna have more degrees than all of us combined soon.”

Babs laughed good-naturedly and they started out on a walk.

“What happened next?” Dean asked as Baxter led him around dutifully.

“Hm?”

“After you got back from Vietnam. What happened?”

“Oh,” Babs said, humming in thought. “Well. Kurt Lewis had never existed, so I just resumed my life in Arkansas. I told people that I had just gone on a spiritual awakening. Now, Joe, however… It was really hard to get a job with 'Dishonorable Discharge’ emblazoned red on his applications. So he took up homesteading and went back to college.”

“What did he major in?”

“Agriculture. He originally wanted to do folklore, but… He knew too much. It all just resulted in him staring at the doorways with a gun clutched in his hands. After that, he finally landed a job at a local college here in Palo Alto. We moved, I eventually became Chancellor here, and so on. You already know he died in a car wreck.”

Dean could hear the soft sadness in her voice, and he reached out to squeeze her hand tightly.

“Ya know,” she began, a smile in her voice, “he never denied anything. People would ask him why he was discharged, and he would tell them, every time, 'I fell in love with a man.’”

“Hopefully, one day, that won't matter.”

“That's all I want. I want to live to see love win.”

Dean pulled her in close. “Oh, Mom, don't you see? Love already has.”

Babs laughed softly, hugging him back. “You've been reading too many books, Dean Winchester.”

“No such thing!” They walked in amiable silence for a bit before Dean started, “Hey, Mom? About the Winchester thing…”


	47. Chapter 47

Days later, Dean knocked a few times on the apartment door before feeling out the keyhole and unlocking it. He opened the door and released the leash, letting Baxter run in.

“Hello?” he called out, shutting the door behind him.

He heard a sniff. “Oh, hey, Dean,” Jess said, something about her voice off.

“Hey,” Dean said hesitantly. “I uh, I thought you weren't getting back 'til next week.”

“I um…” she trailed off.

“You're crying,” Dean said. It wasn't a question.

There was a sob, and Dean cursed silently and took the few steps over to the couch, sitting down beside her and wrapping her up tight in his arms. “Hey, hey. What's wrong?”

Jess blubbered something, and Dean bit his bottom lip. “Hon, I can't understand you.”

She grabbed his hands and made two okay signs against them, turning them until her palms faced her.

“Family?” Dean said, hands resting against hers.

Another sob rang out, and Jess tried again to speak clearly. “They-...” She was reduced to more blubbering.

Dean frowned. “Hey, it's okay. Take your time.”

Her fingers formed claws as she dragged her hands in the air before her up to her shoulders, facing her, and Dean’s fingers parsed out the shape.

“They're angry with you,” Dean said softly. “Why?”

She cradled her arms and started to rock them, only to start shaking. Her hands rose up to her face, hiding it as she sobbed out her soul.

“The baby,” Dean whispered in understanding. He pulled her into him again, running his fingers through her hair. “Hey, it'll be okay. They'll get over it eventually. They're your family, right?”

Jess’s shaking fingers dragged his down softly, shaking her head against his shoulder as her fingers pushed together on both hands.

_No more._

“They disowned you?” Dean asked her in disbelief. His answer was a sob that bordered on a scream, and she dragged her knees up to her chest, burying her face in them as she tried and failed to regain composure.

He wrapped his arms around her entirely, hoping to block the world out from the ray of sunshine he had come to know.

He didn't know what to say. What _could_ he say? She lost her family. The people that were supposed to always be there, always encourage her, always cheer her on and pick her up when she fell.

So he said the only thing he could think of.

“Family don't end in blood,” he whispered against her hair. Her sobs didn't stop, so he just kept talking. “Sam and I, we’re your family. We will _always_ be here for you. We’ll protect you and love you and do everything we can to make you happy. You may be his girlfriend, but you're _my_ sister. And no matter what happens, that will never change.” Dean hesitated, a few more words dangling from his lips. He took a shaky breath. “I love you, Jessica.”

One of her hands tangled itself into the back of his hair and she held him as tight as he was holding her. Dean didn't mind that his shirt was soaked with tears and snot. He'd stay here for years if it meant Jessica would be okay again.

The door opened.

“Hey, Dean, Baxter, J-” Sam stopped cold. “You're back early. What-…?”

Jess was quiet but she was shaking and sniffling and she unraveled herself enough to gently press two fingers just under Dean’s eyes, in a gesture he took to mean, _'I’m looking at you.’_

He turned his head towards Sam. Jess didn't need to hear the words again. So Dean made the two okay hands, circling them to face him, and shook his head _no_ as he pressed his fingers together. Then, as if realizing it could be mistaken as _they’re dead_ , he pulled a hand away from his head and then mimed cradling a baby.

He heard Sam breathe out, “Jess,” before the couch dipped and Jess left Dean’s arms for Sam’s.

Jess blubbered to Sam more, and Sam whispered sweet nothings to her, the shift in the couch cushions telling Dean he was rocking her gently.

Suddenly, Dean felt as if he should be anywhere else.

“I'm gonna-” he began, only to be dragged back down by a small hand.

He heard deep, liquid, shaky breaths before a trembled, “Stay.”

He scooted closer to her until his side was pressed against hers. “Okay. I'll stay.”

She shuddered and pulled Dean’s hands again, her own wet and slippery with tears hastily wiped again and again. The thumb of her fist left her forehead, changing to an L as it went down.

_Brother._

He smiled, trying to ignore the rising lump in his throat as he repeated the sign with his fist leaving his cheek.

_Sister._


	48. Chapter 48

Dean spent the next few nights at their apartment.

There was almost something in the air, a tangible sadness that couldn't be brushed away.

So Dean did what Dean did best.

Made a joke out of it.

“Paul,” Dean deadpanned, brushing a hand against Jessica’s stomach on his way to the kitchen.

“What?” Jessica asked.

Dean shrugged. “He felt like a Paul just then.”

He raised his hand a little too quickly to the cabinet knob, scraping his knuckles slightly.

“Dammit,” he whispered under his breath.

Jess chuckled slightly, and the entire room felt like it was filled with light again. “We don't even know the gender yet, Deano.”

“Well, today he feels like a boy named Paul.”

\---

He gently patted Jess’s stomach as he left for his classes, gripping Baxter’s leash tight with his free hand. “See ya, Lacy.”

“Oh, so she's a girl today?”

“Mhm,” Dean agreed, kissing his palm and pressing it to Jess’s cheek.

He did not return in as good a mood.

It's not that anyone said anything to him. It was that… no one said anything to him. The murmur of the crowd died as he approached. He didn't even _need_ his eyes. He knew.

They were staring.

\---

Dean began wearing sunglasses.

\---

He was over for a visit a few days later, deciding _goddammit_ he was going to cook something!

He went with pasta and filled a pan with water, hurrying before Mr. and Mrs. Killjoy could get back and tell him what a terrible idea this was.

He turned the burner on and listened carefully for the sound of a rolling boil, shaking out dry spaghetti in what he thought was an appropriate amount. He ran his hands all through the pantry, pulling out four sauce-shaped jars. He opened each one and sniffed it until he found the tomato-y one, replacing the others.

The water burbled and he reached out for his pile of spaghetti, placing it gently in the pot.

He put the jar of sauce in the microwave, hitting random numbers and just counting the seconds for himself.

It briefly crossed his mind that this world was no longer made for him.

By the time Sam and Jess got back from their doctor visit, Dean had three plates of spaghetti laying on the table.

“Um?” Sam said.

Dean smirked. “Bon appetit.”

“You didn't,” Jess groaned.

“Oh, I most certainly did.”

There was a sigh, then, “Let me see your hands.”

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. “What? Why?”

She huffed. “I don't believe that you didn't burn yourself doing this.”

He raised one eyebrow at her as he held out both his hands for inspection.

“Hm. I'm impressed.”

“I am a capable adult!”

Jess snorted, and Dean stumbled back a little.

Right, right. She pushed on his chest.

Meh. He'd ask about that some other time.

“So how'd it go?” Dean asked, plopping down in a chair and picking up a fork. Fork? He felt for the prongs. Okay. Yes. Fork.

“It went great,” Sam said, scooting out the chair next to Dean. “Everything is going perfectly, actually.”

“Gender?” Dean asked, maybe a little too excitedly.

“Dunno yet. Won't know for a couple more weeks,” Sam said around his food. “Oh God… This is better than anything I've ever had.”

Dean pointed his fork at Sam. “I will stab you.”

Sam swallowed loudly and laughed. “No, seriously. This is great. Good nose. Or mouth or… whatever.”

Dean couldn't help the small smirk, and he lifted his sunglasses and winked at Sam.

“Ugh… tomatoes…” Jess said from across the room, followed by the sound of the bathroom door slamming shut and retching.

Dean snorted. “She loved tomatoes last week.”

Sam shrugged. “It's a new week.”

Dean twirled his spaghetti. “Hey, is it normal to lose like, all feeling in certain areas after a crash?”

The sounds of Sam eating immediately stopped. “I am not giving you dick advice,” Sam choked out.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Bitch. I mean my shoulder.”

Sam swallowed. “Your shoulder?”

“And some of my chest. And back. And arm. And a little on my neck.”

“Dude that's like, a solid fourth of your body.”

Dean shrugged. “I thought it might go away. It's not a big deal or anything. Like, those aren't important parts. I was just curious.”

“I dunno. It's just numb? That's all?”

“Well, and the skin is raised a bit but…”

Sam made a thoughtful noise. “Maybe you're having an allergic reaction. We _did_ just change laundry detergents, and you've done a load or two over here.”

Dean blinked. “Oh. That… actually never crossed my mind. Alright.”

There was the sound of Sam scooting his chair out, then his lumbering footsteps left and returned. “Here's some Benadryl. Good luck.”

Dean took the proffered box. “Thanks.” He almost didn't even need to run his fingers around it to know he needed to ask, “What does it say I should take?”

“I generally take one at night. It'll… it'll probably knock you out. Like, cold.”

Dean nodded. “So don't take it til I get back to Mom’s, got it.”

Sam laughed, and the sounds of him eating returned.

\---

Days passed.

There was a knock on the apartment door. Dean took his hand off of the book he was reading and sat it down gently.

They had put a second devil’s trap under their welcome mat, so Dean swung the door open fearlessly. “Yep?”

“Delivery for Jessica Moore?”

Dean held his arms out awkwardly, awaiting a package.

“What?”

“Man, I'm blind. Just stick it in my arms.”

“Oh. Oh! I'm- I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to-”

“Dude. The package.”

“Right. It's um… it's flowers. It… One hand.”

Dean dropped one hand and made a grabby motion with the other. A bouquet was placed in it ever-so-gently. Dean held back his long-suffering sigh.

“I’m uh… I'm sorry for… for your loss.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “My loss?”

“I… I mean, the flowers are… The paper is black so-”

“Dude, you _do_ realize you can just talk to me like a normal person, right?”

“I-... Yeah I-... I'm so sorry I just…”

Dean bit back his groan. “Just read the damn card to me.”

“That's… I think that's illeg-...”

Dean took a deep breath in and let it out. “I'm giving you permission,” he gritted out through his teeth.

“I um…. Okay I…. It says, 'For Our Dead Daughter’. So I… yeah… I was right um… sorry.”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just go.”

“You gotta sign-”

Dean grabbed the pen on the board and marked across the whole thing.

“Okay I-... You have… Good day, sir.”

Dean slammed the door shut, strode over to the couch, buried his face in a pillow, and screamed.

“Woah hey, you doin’ okay?” Sam asked from behind him.

Dean’s head shot up and turned to Sam. “ _I am a goddamn person!”_ Dean screeched, throwing the pillow back onto the couch. “And Jessica’s parents are _fucking evil and I hate them!”_

“I-... Okay, start on the second part.”

Dean threw the bouquet in Sam’s direction. “Unless you two lost a baby that you won't even know the gender of for at least another week?”

Dean heard the stems crunching in Sam’s fist.

“I'm throwing these away,” Sam murmured before slamming the door behind him.

Dean ran a hand over his face, trying to forget the darkness directed at his sunshine of a sister.

_For Our Dead Daughter._

Dean grabbed the pillow again.

\---

Cupcakes, this time.

Barbara had helped make them before he headed over, so he knew they were half pink and half blue. Because this was it.

Reggie or Justice.

Zeppelin or Pat.

Boy or girl.

His knee was bouncing as he waited, petting Baxter’s head absently. The lazy bastard was laying in Dean’s lap, asleep.

Well, maybe it was Dean’s fault for making so many dog-friendly cookies yesterday and um… feeding them to him today.

Dean briefly wondered if _he_ had gained any weight.

His pants still fit. He was fine.

The door opened and jerked him out of his thoughts. He stood up suddenly, only barely grabbing a yelping Baxter and clutching him to his chest. “Well?”

Dean knew the two of them well enough to know they were exchanging grins.

Finally, Jess giggled, “Where are those blue cupcakes?”


	49. Chapter 49

“Come on! Describe it to me!”

“Well, they put this goop on my stomach and-”

Dean groaned. “The _picture_ , you dork!”

Jess laughed. “It literally just looks like every single other ultrasound ever taken.”

Dean propped his chin on his hands, leaning forward over the table. “But _describe it to me._ ”

Jess laughed good-naturedly. “Like a real crisp lasagna.”

Dean groaned. “C’mon. I'm blind. Give me a break.”

“Thought you didn't wanna be treated differently?” Jess teased.

“Right now I do!”

“It's black and white. It looks like someone drew a baby on a chalkboard and then used a hairdryer on it. Like, the whole picture isn't perfect and solid. But you can see his head and he's all curled up. He's also…” she trailed off.

“Yeah?” Dean asked softly, eyes wide.

“He's kinda flipping us off.”

There was a beat, then Dean was laughing harder than he had in a long time. “Holy shit that's rich. I love him already.” He wiped the tears from his eyes and held out one hand. “I wanna pat him. Let him know he done good.”

Jess snorted and Dean heard her steps towards him, her hand laying his on her stomach.

He patted it gently. “Atta boy!” He looked up at her, hand still. “What's his name?”

“Well,” Sam said, closer than he had been, “we’ve been discussing boy and girl options for a while now and-”

“Dude, _the name._ ”

Sam laughed. “Robert William Winchester.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow. “Bobby Billy?”

“What? No, we’re not calling him-”

Dean and Jess simultaneously gasped, Dean’s eyes growing wide and his breath halting in his throat. His hand trembled against Jessica’s stomach.

“What? What happened?” Sam asked, sounding concerned.

Jess’s fingers brushed against Dean’s as she placed her hand beside his. “He kicked,” she whispered, astounded.

Dean let out a shaky breath. “There's a _human being_ inside your stomach.”

Sam’s hand was on the other side of Dean’s.

“Say it again,” Jess whispered.

“Bobby Billy?”

“We are _not_ calling him-”

Everyone was quiet.

“Holy shit,” Sam whispered.

Jess giggled a little. “What about just Billy?”

Sam gasped, then breathed out shakily, “He kicked my hand.”

“Billy,” Jess whispered in awe.

Dean hid his evil smirk as he nosed Jess’s stomach and whispered, “Billybillybillybillybillybi- What the-!” He leaned back and rubbed his nose. “Kid kicked me in the face.”

“He's not even _one,_ ” Jess snarked. “It couldn't have hurt that ba-” She suddenly coughed, then said strangledly, “Oh fuck I think he kicked me in the kidneys.”

Dean’s hand collided with Sam’s shoulder in an attempt to stop his younger brother’s laughter. “You guys already have yourselves a trouble maker!”

Sam pushed Dean’s hand away. “I'm sure he learned it from you somehow.”

“Hey, I just so happen to be the best uncle in existence so you can shut up, Sammy. Besides, Bobby Billy Fo-Filly is his own man, and he has decided all by himself to be an asshole!”

Sam said “Hey!” as Jess laughed.

Dean couldn't help his self-satisfied smirk at Jess’s laugh. “It's because you two haven't been playing him enough rock and roll.”

Jess patted his shoulder sarcastically. “Okay, Mr. Zeppelin, we’ll play him more rock. ...Did you just shudder when I said Mr. Zeppelin?”

“I-... I feel no shame.”

Dean knew Jess well enough that he knew she was biting her bottom lip to hide her grin. “Gay fantasy?” she guessed.

“No shame.”


	50. Chapter 50

“Ugh,” Dean stretched his arms out over his head. “When's the last time I got _laid?”_

Sam snorted from somewhere at their library table. “Jess decked you pretty hard the other day with that frying pan.”

“Not laid _out,_  Sammy, _laid."_  Dean paused. “Besides, it's not her fault she didn't know I was there. Still got that damn lump on my head, though.”

“Yep, you fucking rhino.”

Dean covered his forehead with his hand. “Shut the fuck up, Sam. I need to go out tonight.”

“Then go out tonight,” Sam muttered, the _shick_ of papers turning reaching Dean’s ears.

“I think I will,” Dean said, leaning too far back in his chair and grabbing the table in a panic. He dusted himself off and ignored his hot cheeks. “Baxter and I are gonna pick up all the ladies.”

“Oh yeah, the girls just _love_ blind guys.”

“A little sympathy, man!”

Sam just snorted.

Dean cleared his throat and crossed his arms behind his head. “I'll just tell them I'll read them like I read Braille.”

“How's that?” Sam muttered absently.

“Um, with my fingertips, dude. What the hell are you even reading, anyway?”

“Huh? Oh, this. It's a spellbook.”

“A… spellbook? Why?”

“Oh, it's called _How To Get Rid Of Annoying Older Brothers_.”

“I've got the little brother version somewhere. It doesn't work.”

Sam laughed, and Dean fidgeted with his hands in his lap. “Hey, Sammy?”

“Hm?”

 _“_ You'd… You'd tell me if I was a burden, right?”

The pages stopped turning, and a hand pulled his arm out and squeezed his hand gently. “Of course, Dean,” Sam said, honesty in his voice. “But you're not a burden. You cook for us, clean as best as you can, and you keep us open and truthful with each other. You've more than proved your worth, and you didn't even have to. You're good, man.”

Dean nodded. “I'm gonna go see if Babs needs help with her summer garden.”

“Sure,” Sam said, giving Dean’s hand one last squeeze. “And then you can find some easy girl-”

“-Watch it, Sam-”

“-and shack up somewhere. Better be her place, unless you call first.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Sure.” He felt under himself for Baxter’s leash and stood up, waking the dog up from its nap. “C’mon, boy.”

Sam yelled after him, “And don't forget the Christo thing!”

\---

Bars were weird when you couldn't see anything.

The music was blasting and there was a cold glass in his hand. Occasionally someone would bump into his back and apologize profusely, and Dean had just about had enough.

These places used to be _fun._ He used to have girls climbing over themselves to get to him. Now all he had was “Hey! Watch it, you bast- oh. Oh my God. I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!”

Dean downed his glass and pulled gently at the leash, urging Baxter up. “Time to go,” he muttered, standing up.

A delicate hand hit his shoulder. “Hey, there, mister. Wait just a hot second.”

The voice was sultry and sweet, _cinnamon pears,_  and it pushed him back down.

“What's your name, you beautiful appetizer?” the woman crooned, her hand running gently over his stubble in a way he hadn't felt in - _damn_ \- months.

“Dean,” he said, regaining his composure and his give-em-hell attitude. He raised an eyebrow her way and smirked. “And what goddess are you named after?”

He listened to the curve of her mouth, trapped in her laugh, and the way it morphed into a smirk as she ordered two drinks. “Samantha, but most people just call me Sam.”

Dean whistled low at that. “No can do, sugar. Got a brother named Sam.”

He felt sweetened breath graze his lips. “Then you can call me anything you want.”

He leaned in for a deep, red kiss.

The thunk of two glasses hitting the bar broke them apart, Dean licking his lips as she leaned away. “Ah,” she said, voice breathless and beautiful. “Our um… our drinks.” She giggled slightly.

He grinned at her. “You move fast, don't you?”

He heard her cough awkwardly. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“I'm all ears.”

She groaned. “I can't believe I'm… I kind of have this kink.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah I um… Blind guys.”

He outright laughed. “You're serious.”

“I know,” she said, the slightly muffled voice signaling she had hid her face in her hands.

He grinned at her. “So if I asked you to hand me my drink?”

He heard her take a deep breath and regain her composure. “Then there'd be a good chance you're getting laid tonight.”

The cool glass touched his fingers gently, and he wrapped his hand around it. “What are the odds, sweetheart?”

“ _To_ the odds.” Her glass clinked against his, and he drank his shot in one go.

It took Dean all of four seconds to realize Baxter was growling.

“Your dog doesn't like me,” the girl pouted.

Dean cocked his head at the sound. “Tell ya what. I'll tie him outside and be right back. Deal?”

There were soft lips against his own, and a hand travelling up his belly, only to be lost to his chest (he assumed). “Deal,” she whispered across his lips.

Dean let Baxter lead him out, starting up a brisk pace. “So a grade-A bitch, huh?” Dean asked him after a while.

Baxter huffed in agreement and upped his speed.

“Easy now, tiger. We are almost to the end of my comfort pace. I better call Sammy and let him know we’re on our way.”

His steps hitched, he fell forward, and his phone cracked on the sidewalk. “Dammit,” he said, feeling out all the pieces.

Baxter was licking at his face, and Dean pushed him away. “Not now.”

The licking returned, more insistent. “Not now!” Dean said louder, going to push him away and missing. He aimed to stand up, but fell over again. “What-”

And it hit him like a freight train.

Dean forced himself up and ran, letting Baxter lead him. If he slowed down even a little, Baxter would go crazy, barking and howling until he gritted his teeth and pushed on.

He turned left and there was a door against his hand, and Baxter pulled him along more until

“Dean?”

and he was falling and

“No, no! He _never_ has - Yeah, Jess, I'm - Dean are - Jess - Sam what - Dean can-”

and he was over a toilet, puking his guts up and

he was laughing but he couldn't breathe and

his limbs wouldn't work and _nothing was working and_

water was falling out of his mouth and

He groaned and covered his head with a pillow to block out the radio noises. No wait, fuck, that was his alarm. Summer class today. He attempted to hit snooze, only to discover his arm was lead and wouldn't cooperate. He groaned louder, mostly to amuse himself.

Someone shuffled in his room. “Dean?”

Ah. Sam.

The alarm shut off. “I'll just skip class today,” Sam murmured.

Dean tried to make words, but his mouth wasn't working quite right and everything slurred. He coughed, realized his mistake, and barely had time to reach for his bedside trash before he was hurling his guts out.

Sam laughed a little. “Dude. How much did you drink last night?”

Dean gasped in air, shaking his head. “I didn't-” He interrupted himself with another bout of sickness, finally sitting down the trash can and breathing heavily, shaking. “I didn't drink much.” He turned to the other side of his bed and fell out.

“Easy there, tiger,” Sam said. “It's a small couch.”

“Where the fuck am I?” Dean managed to say after a few tries.

“Our apartment. You came back here basically falling all over yourself last night.”

The thought brought more bile up to Dean’s throat and he focused very hard on forcing it back down.

“So. How much did you drink?”

“Already… said… Where the fuck am I?” Dean gritted out.

“Yeah well you're really hard to understand right now.”

Dean curled up in on himself, dragging the blankets around him. “Beer and… whiskey shot.”

“Uh-huh. How much really?”

Dean shook his head, the motion sending his mind reeling. “Just those. Did we feed Baxter?”

“Yeah. What about the falling over?”

“...roofie.” The word escaped his mouth right before he grabbed the can and hurled again, shaking hard, tears streaming from his eyes against his will.

Suddenly Sam’s hand was on his back, rubbing gentle circles as he softly shushed him. “Shhhhh, Dean, shhhh. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here.”

Dean heard Jess snort from somewhere. “Geez, _my_ hangovers never got that much care.”

“He was roofied.”

There was a beat, then quick feet headed towards him and small hands pushed his hair away from his forehead. “Oh my… Dean…”

“ _I should've known,_ ” Dean yelled, before dry-heaving. He gasped in air and repeated, “I should have known. Did we feed Baxter?”

“How, love? How would you have known?” Jess asked softly.

“I should've fucking _heard_ -”

“Dean.” Sam.

Dean focused on breathing, eyes screwed shut tight.

“Dean, enhanced senses aren't something that come with blindness. We should've told you, but you believing that hasn't been a problem until now. This isn't your fault.”

Dean shuddered and gripped the trash can tighter.

“Okay,” he let fall from his lips. “But I really… I really do hear better… I hate throwing up.”

Sam rubbed his back again. “I know. But it's not because of your eyes. You can't beat yourself up over this, okay?”

“Okay. I have classes today. Did we feed Baxter?”

“You alright now?”

Dean held his head in his hands. “Like, physically or mentally? 'Cause they're both a resounding no.” Dean finally opened his eyes. “Fuck, why is it so _dark_ in here?” He felt out for Sam’s face and furrowed his brow. “I think I was roofied last night.” He felt Sam's curly hair, just touching the bottoms of his ears. “You need a haircut.”

There was silence, then, “I'll go get my med ref book.”

“How did you even know, man?” Sam asked as Jessica’s footsteps retreated.

Dean shrugged. “Not the first time. Did we feed-”

“What?”

“A kid all alone hustling people in a bar? C’mon, Sammy. Where’d ya think I learned to fight? I have classes today.”

“No, Dean, you don't. I do. Well, did.”

Dean touched Sam’s face again. “Hey, Sam. I think I was roofied last night.”

\---

After Dean had regained some of his former mental competence, Sam and Jess sat him down on the couch, nestled between them.

“There's something we’ve gotta talk about, hon,” Jess told him softly, linking her arm through his.

“That's never a good sign…”

“You're a very honest drunk,” Sam told Dean, throwing an arm around his shoulder and pulling him close.

“I love the snuggles, but what did I _say?”_

“Last night,” Jess started, “you were bawling.”

Dean winced. “We can forget that happened.”

“We can't,” Sam said, “because you were crying about Billy.”

“I was?”

Jess leaned her head against Dean’s shoulder. “You were. If I may quote you, you were saying something about 'yet another kid I'll never get to see.’ So. Let's talk about it.”

Dean would've hunched his shoulders if it didn't mean dislodging Jess. “I'm never gonna see him,” Dean whispered.

“You'll hear him,” Sam whispered back. “And you'll hold him, and you'll _definitely_ smell him. You don't need to see him to know he's there. He will love you. Maybe more than he’ll love us.”

Dean closed his eyes. “Damn alcohol. Damn roofies.”

“Yeah another thing,” Jess said, “you are never going to a bar on your own again.”

Dean frowned. “I don't want to go to a bar again.”

Sam hummed. “Ruined the whole thing for ya, huh?”

“Well I almost got raped so, yeah,” Dean deadpanned. “At least when I could see I could fight back.”

There was silence, and Dean sighed, “Go ahead and ask.”

Jess nuzzled into his shoulder. “Were you ever…?”

“No, but… there were some real damn close calls,” Dean responded, leaning his head against hers.

“I never knew,” Sam said, wrapping both arms around Dean.

Dean took a mental stock of their positions and huffed. “'Course not. But, on a different matter entirely, have you two been training me to be honest by giving me cuddles?”

They both stilled guiltily and Dean laughed. “Oh my God. You guys have. You're fucking dorks.” He freed his hands and ran them through both of their hair. “I love y'all.”

“Oh I'm sorry, what was that last bit?” Sam teased.

“I said you need to cut your damn hair.”

“Pfft. Later.”

“Sam I can literally hear you lying.”

“I love you, too, Dean.”


	51. Chapter 51

Dean ran his fingers over the pages of _Slaughterhouse-Five,_ feelingout the words he had all but memorized. He'd gotten better at this - finally - and could read at a pretty good pace again. He had different sized shampoo and conditioner bottles, he had a medical bracelet he always wore, and he had a very content dog laying in his lap.

“Dean I need your help.”

Dean held up a finger and finished the paragraph he was on before inserting the knit bookmark Babs had made him. “What's this, sis?”

Jess plopped down beside him. “I've told you plenty of times that doesn't make sense. And I… I kinda need a favor.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “What kind of favor?”

“I joined the dance team.”

“What? Why?”

“Shut up. Lacey needed one more person for this next game because Jeanette was sick and-”

“Jess. Skip to the favor.”

“Right. Um, I need you to join, too.”

“No way in Hell.”

He felt her hands grasp his forearm. “C’mon, Deano! It's just for one game!”

“And make a laughing stock of myself? No, thank you.”

“You'll be great at it! I know you will!”

Dean waved a hand in front of his open eyes. “Sensing the problem yet?”

“See I already thought about that! It's all routined, so once you learn it you could do it with your eyes shut!”

“Literally wouldn't make a difference.”

“Deeeaaannnn,” Jess whined, the pout visible in her voice, “please? I'll even get rid of all the horrible shit in your closet!”

Dean paused. “What horrible shit?”

“Well…”

“Jess.”

“Okay so. You remember how I was mad at you because you and Sam stayed out super late and didn't let me know?”

“Yeah…”

“And then we went thrifting the next day?”

“...”

“Well I told you that a bunch of shirts were cute when they actually had like. Felt Santas and weird puns on them.”

Dean made a strangled noise and felt frantically at his shirt. “The fuck am I wearing then?!”

“Well it's… it's definitely not plaid.”

Dean gritted his teeth. “No shit, Sherlock. Describe it to me.”

“It's all floral fabric in crazy colors, except each part of the shirt is a different and unmatching fabric. Like, your left arm is small blue flowers and your right is giant purple ones. The pocket is yellow.”

Dean pushed Baxter off his lap and stood up, frantically pulling the shirt off. “Why the _fuck_ would you do that?!”

There was silence, then, “Sam.” Again, louder, “Sam!”

“Sam didn't make you-”

“What the _fuck?!”_ Sam shouted from across the room.

Dean gestured furiously at Jess. “It's her fault! She picked the damn thing out!”

“Can you feel that at _all?”_

“Dean, when you said you had a rash-”

“Sweet God, what _happened?!”_

Dean finally felt fingers pushing against his jawline. He swatted Jess’s hand away. “Knock it off, dick.” Sam’s hand on his belly. “Hey, get your own!” The hand left.

“You can't feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“We are both pushing against your chest.”

Dean looked down, huffed in irritation at himself, and sighed, “No, Sam. I told you. I can't feel a damn thing. The Benadryl hasn't been helping much.”

Jess low-whistled. “This is _way_ beyond Benadryl. It looks like you were branded with _lava,_  dude.”

Dean blinked and felt his own chest. “It does?”

His hand ran into Sam’s as he said, “Yeah, Dean. Do you have any idea what _caused_ this?”

“Probably that giant lion thing I freed. It grabbed me and like… I dunno, meshed souls with me? I can't-”

Dean knew he finished the sentence. He knew that. But he didn't know what he said, just that his tongue suddenly felt thick and that he couldn't hear his own words.

There was silence, then, “Did… Could you feel _that?”_

Dean waved his arms, dislodging Sam and Jess. “Not on my skin. Felt my mouth moving. What-...?”

“Fuck if I know,” Sam muttered. “Sounded like a different language.”

“Well, what did it sound like I said?”

“I literally don't know. There were so many syllables, like el’s and ol’s and zo’s. All I did was-...” Sam trailed off.

Dean ran a hand over his face. “What did you do?”

“I just squeezed your shoulder…”

Dean sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Look. We can't do anything about this, apparently. And at this point I'm willing to join the dance team if you two will stop suffocating me with worry. Deal?”

He heard Jess sigh, “Yeah, okay. You're a grown man. Deal.”

“Good. Now go pick me out a shirt that _doesn't_ look like a fabric store threw up on me.”

\---

“ _Baby can't ya see_

_I'm callin’?_

_A guy like you_

_Should wear a warnin’.”_

Dean huffed and crossed his arms. “You're kidding me.”

“I'm not. Just… trust your body. _Feel_ sexy.”

“Aw babe, I _always_ feel sexy.”

Jess snorted. “Look, it's kinda complicated but you have almost a month to get it.”

Dean hummed and uncrossed his arms. “So you and me and who else?”

Jess coughed awkwardly. “See, that's why you shoulda let me finish the story. I promised months ago but now I can't, so you're taking my place.”

“Um. What.”

“Pregnant, remember? I can't do this sorta shit anymore. But I'll train with you because I'm supposed to exercise.”

Dean whined, “I'll be out there by _myself?!”_

“Lacey will be with you! And Darla! See, there will be four teams of three and you're in the second one!”

Dean groaned. “Fine. Fine. Whatever.” He pointed at Jess sternly. “I'm only doing this for you.”

She bumped her hip against his. “I know, bro. Thanks. And hey, maybe this’ll help you move around better. Trust your body n shit.”

He did his best unamused glare and shook his medical bracelet at her. “Seven months. Been blind seven months. I don't think I can get much better.”

“Well at the very least you’ll be able to do some bomb strip teases. Now, c'mon. Your ass has to be farther out.”

“This is demeaning.”

“I don't know de meaning of that word,” Jess deadpanned. “C'mon. Imagine James Dean is watching you.”

Dean smirked a little and wiggled his hips sultrily. “How'd you know?”

“Are you kidding? Who _doesn't_ have a crush on James Dean? Now, feet farther apart…”


	52. Chapter 52

Game day came and went, and Dean would be lying if he said he didn't feel like a very sexy motherfucker through the whole thing.

Sue him.

But there were times lately, when he'd be walking around, and the hair on his arms would stand on end, like lightning was approaching from the sky.

It unnerved him.

There was once, when he had his arm looped through Sam’s as they walked downtown, that, for a brief second, a tingle ran down his shoulder and across his chest. He was so used to nothingness there that he yelped and jerked his arm away, colliding with a brick wall.

Today was different, though.

He woke up at Babs’ and made tea, since he woke up before her now. His entire sleep schedule had been fucked up ever since he got top-side. She walked in a while later, accepting the tea groggily. They sat in amicable silence for a while, an old swing record turning away.

The phone rang, and she answered it.

“Hello?” she said softly, sleep still evident in her voice. “Oh, hello, Sam. What- Oh, yes. Yes, he's here. Hold on.” She bumped the phone against Dean. “It's for you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he whispered, grabbing the receiver. “Sammy, what's up?”

“Dean! Look, I don't have much time.”

“What-”

“Jess is in labor.”

Dean froze, then a broad grin spread across his face. “Oh my gosh! Congrats! Are y'all-”

“On our way to the hospital, yes. Come when you can, okay?”

“Of course! Same one as always?”

“Yeah, yeah. God, I'm about to be a dad. Shit, I've gotta go! Love you!”

“Love you,” Dean responded right as Sam hung up the phone.

Dean turned to Babs. “Billy’s on his way!”

Babs grabbed Dean’s hand and squeezed. “That's amazing! Are you-”

“Yeah, I'm headed there now.” Dean whistled and listened for the sound of doggie paws on tile. “I'll call you when I can, okay? See ya later.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

He gathered up Baxter’s leash and shut the door behind him. “Okay, Bax. I know the way but you've gotta help. Hospital. You hear me? Hospital. Hospital. Okay?”

He heard an affirmative bark.

“Okay, good. Now, lead-”

Baxter took off at a breakneck pace, forcing Dean to run full-sprint. “Bad dog! Baxter!  _ No!” _

There was a whine, and a whimper, and Baxter upped his pace. Dean cursed silently and let go of the leash, doubling over and breathing hard. There were a few mournful howls, the sound of paws approaching, then a yelp and Baxter ran farther away than Dean could hear.

“Damn hound,” Dean muttered, pulling in a deep breath and standing up, completely unsure of where he was.

The hair on his arms stood on end.

A tingle ran across his chest.

Lightning pulsed through his shoulder, and he gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, words he didn't understand pouring from his lips as he fell to his knees.

“Dean Winchester,” a voice said.

He opened his eyes to see endless, endless blue.


	53. Chapter 53

Dean screamed.

He screamed and fell down, scrambling away as it - _blue,pink,black-_ approached, head - _fuck,hair,messy,straight-_ tilted.

“I have been scouring the worlds for you, Dean Winchester.” Hand - _hard,rough,rugged,tan-_ reaching out, body - _l_ _ithe,strong,flex,_ ** _fuck_** _-_ bending to hover over Dean, hand braced beside Dean’s head.

Dean had nowhere to go. “What… what are you?” he asked, voice hitching.

Its blue eyes regarded him, its eyebrow arched. “What the fuck are you talking about?” it said.

Dean’s hands raised on his own, frantically pushing through its hair. “Are you real? Am I dreaming? Have I cracked?”

It lowered its eyes and glowered at him, hand clapping onto his shoulder and gripping tight. Dean’s back arched and he screamed out words he didn't know, visions of feelings, remnants of _Heaven_ dancing before his eyes.

The being released him, leaning its face in close. “That, Dean Winchester. You have been yelling for me.”

His chest heaved, the damn blue eyes too close. “What…What did I say?”

The head tilted, the - _black,rough,stubble-_ chin brushing against his own. “You said, 'Deliver me, Castiel’.”

“Castiel?” The breath was warm against his lips.

“What? Do you not remember me? You freed me, Dean Winchester.”

Their chests brushed, and it was as if Dean’s soul rejoiced. “Castiel,” he whispered, tasting the name on his tongue. He slowly grinned, holding the being’s cheeks tightly. “Castiel.”

Castiel’s hands curled into fists beside his head. “Yes. I am Castiel, Angel of the Lord.”

Dean laughed aloud in joy, wrapping his arms around Castiel and pulling him into a hug. He didn't know why. He didn't _know_ this angel. But his soul was crying out in happiness. It was like he found what he had been missing since he returned, and he refused to let it go.

“Gerroffme,” Castiel said, his voice muffled by Dean’s shoulder, pushing against him.

Dean actually -  _literally -_ sobbed in joy. “My soul,” he whispered, clutching Castiel tight, like a life he had left eons ago.

Cas grabbed his shoulder and forced him to let go. “You humans are _insufferable_. I didn't mean to mark you, and I already regret it.” He looked down at Dean, who was still smiling, and huffed, “In Layman’s terms, _fuck off.”_

Dean’s eyes were glazed over as he stared at Castiel in awe, and Castiel glared at him and stood up curtly. “Get up.”

“Oh, how I have missed y-”

Cas leaned in and slapped Dean across the face. “Calm down. Realize where you are. Do not let your soul speak for you.”

Dean blinked a few times and looked around. “Where am- Oh, oh fuck. Jess.” His eyes widened. “I have to get to her!”

Cas scowled at him. “I am, unfortunately, indebted to you. I will take you there.”

Castiel grabbed the front of Dean’s shirt and hauled him to his feet, the world swirled, and suddenly Dean was standing in a stark white building.

Cas released him unceremoniously. “Your brother is in there,” he said, gesturing to the nearby door.

Dean stumbled a bit. “Are you coming with me?”

“Not a chance. I will return in an hour. Do not leave without me. You are incredibly difficult to find.”

“Wait! Why not-... Why not just wait at the apartment?”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “The obvious answer here is that, had I known where your apartment was, I would have found you much quicker.”

Dean grabbed a pen from a nearby table and reached out for Castiel’s hand, which was promptly jerked away. Dean mumbled, “Trust me,” and grabbed his hand again, writing the address across his palm. “I'll be there. Wait for me, please.”

Cas grimaced. “You saved my life and my memories. I cannot leave you.”

Dean glanced frantically back at the door. “We’ll discuss that later, okay? I'm about to be an uncle!”

“Charming.”

Castiel was gone.

Dean took a deep breath and stepped into the room.


	54. Chapter 54

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed, turning around to look at him. “I was worried you got lost. They said we can't go in until after she's delivered.”

Sam went on about some stuff, but it was muffled in Dean’s ears. Because he saw it now. The bridge of Sam’s nose, lining up perfectly with Mary’s. The eyebrows, reminiscent of John. The eyes, with new lines and darker shadows. And the hair, curling across his jawline.

Sam… was supposed to look younger.

Dean took a few steps towards Sam, distantly aware that he wasn't blinking and that Sam had asked his name, a confused smile on his face.

He wanted to say something snarky, something like 'You need a damn haircut,’ or 'Vision back and I still have to look at your ugly mug?’

But what came out was, “Sam?”

Dean rested his hand on Sam’s cheek and took it all in, all the _lines,dark,brown,hair,smile,worry,age,brother,_ **_brother_**.

Why was everything blurry?

Dean felt Sam touch his face. “Dean?” he finally heard. “Are you crying?”

He held Sam’s face in both hands now.

_Say it, Dean. Snark him!_

“Baby brother,” Dean breathed out shakily. “How you have aged.” He ran his thumb along the dark shadows under Sam’s eyes. “Where did these come from?”

Sam’s eyes widened, and he held up three fingers beside his head, not saying a word as he stared Dean in the eyes.

Dean flicked over to look. “Three,” he breathed, and Sam smiled and laughed and dragged him into a hug, burying his face in Dean’s shoulder. He was vaguely aware that his shirt was wet now.

Someone cleared their throat and Dean looked up at the _white,coat,clipboard,gloves._

“She's ready for you now.”

Sam pulled back, wiping his eyes. He grabbed Dean’s hand and they followed the doctor together.

The door opened and Jess looked up at them as they entered, sweaty and dark-eyed but smiling nonetheless. “Sam,” she croaked. “Dean.”

Sam practically dove to kneel beside her, holding her face and kissing her hard, tears still rolling. They exchanged words Dean couldn't hear as his eyes fell upon the nurse holding-

Holy shit.

_Holy shit._

His nephew.

“Sam,” he whispered, staring in awe at the human he never expected to see. He was perfect. He looked so much like Sam did, he-

Dean covered his mouth as he bawled.

Jess called out to him as Sam went to the nurse, and Dean took Sam’s place, telling Jess how beautiful she looked and how wonderful of a sister she was and how happy he was for her.

Jess didn't seem to understand, merely brushed Dean’s tears away and beamed at him.

Sam laid Billy in Jessica’s arms, and the nurse held up a camera.

Jessica laughed and groaned out, “Are you taking pictures? Just… let me put something on.” She pulled at her drenched hospital gown.

Dean looked over at her and smiled through his tears. “Wouldn't dream of it.”


	55. Chapter 55

“Well, that took a while,” a gravelly voice said in the dark as Dean closed the apartment door behind him.

“There was a baby,” Dean remarked, walking over to the kitchen. “Would you like a drink?”

“I don't drink.”

“We have non-alcoholic stuff.”

“At all.”

“Oh,” Dean said, feeling around for glasses and filling one up with water.

“I _did_ cure you of your blindness, did I not?”

Dean paused. “Oh. Shit. Right.” He walked back to the door and flipped the switch on. “Um, thanks for that, by the way. Zachariah-”

“Is an ass. Yes, I'm aware.”

Dean looked at Castiel and raised an eyebrow. “Did you go shopping while I was at the hospital?”

Cas flipped open a lighter and pulled a cigarette out of the pocket on his leather jacket. “My research has informed me-” he put the cigarette between his lips, speaking around it, “-that this is the proper attire of rebels, of which I am most definitely.” He flipped the lighter shut and breathed out smoke.

Dean coughed. “I mean, yeah, I guess. You're right. Where did you get the money, though?”

Cas raised an eyebrow at him, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. “I didn't.”

“So you just stole that entire outfit.”

Cas hummed in acknowledgement.

Dean decided that he should look anywhere but the James Dean angel and opted to sit on the couch. He patted the seat beside him. “C’mon, Cas. Sit with me.”

Castiel wrinkled his nose. “Cas?”

“Yeah. Can I call you that?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I suppose.” Dean _definitely_ didn't watch the dark denim walk his way, or the folds of the white shirt moving as Cas took off the leather jacket and threw it on the floor. Cas sat beside Dean and blew smoke in his face.

Dean coughed and waved his hand to clear the air in front of him. “Dude, you don't have to act like this. It's just you and me.”

“I don't know what you mean.” Cas breathed in smoke, and Dean snatched the cigarette from his fingers. “Hey!”

Dean put it to his own lips and Cas disintegrated it with a snap of his fingers. Dean looked smug as Cas glowered.

“So you _do_ care about my well-being! I'm touched, really,” Dean said sarcastically.

Cas grumbled and sank further into the couch.

Dean regarded him thoughtfully, remembering the tortured creature he had found all those months ago, and his face softened. “Hey,” he said softly, “It's okay. You're safe now. I won't let anything get to you again.”

Cas snorted, fire lighting in his eyes. “Oh, wonderful! Just what I needed! A hairless _ape_ vowing to protect me from warriors of God. How quaint.”

Dean sighed. “What are you after, then? You're a refugee down here. What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to, what's the phrase, keep my ass clean and my head down.”

“Then why are you still here?” Dean whispered.

Castiel met his eyes, looked away, and fidgeted. “You're all that I know.”

Dean leaned forward again to catch those blue eyes. “Then let me take care of you? You have to still be in pain, right?”

Cas winced.

“That's what I thought. Let me heal you.”

Castiel snarled at him. “And be further indebted to you, o great ape? I don't think it wise.”

“You don't have any debts to me. Cas, you can leave whenever you want. But, please… stay? I don't know why but… I feel better with you around. Do you feel it too?”

Cas huffed in irritation. “Your soul and my grace meshed. Unfortunately, the return trip did not rip them apart evenly.”

“So… what? Are you telling me some of my _soul_ is in you?”

“And my grace in you, yes. That makes you a very dangerous man, Dean Winchester.”

Dean flinched. “Can you please quit calling me Winchester? It's Dean. Just Dean. Dean Heeren, if you've got to use something.”

“Ah, did you finally renounce your oaf of a father?”

Dean was silent.

Cas laughed bitterly. “Jesus Christ. Me, too.”

There was another cigarette in his mouth, and Dean stared blankly at the wall before them.

There was silence between them until Cas broke it. “May I stay here?”

“'Course, Cas. Well, no. Not here. Dream Team’s gonna be bringing home a baby. Let's go to Babs’.”

“Very well.”

Dean stood up to grab his things, but not before he heard a whispered, “Thank you.”

\---

“An angel.”

“Yeah, he's the one I helped rescue!”

Cas coughed. “Did rescue. It was entirely you.”

Babs sighed and tucked some strands of hair behind her ears.

“You missed one,” Dean mumbled, tucking it behind her ear.

She looked up at him with wide eyes.

Cas announced, “I healed his blindness.”

\---

“Woah woah, okay Mom. Don't sit up too quick. Cas, get her some tea!”

“Some what?”

“Oh, for fuck's-” Dean sighed. “Okay, YOU watch over her and I’LL make the tea.”

Cas shrugged and crouched beside Babs, who was laying on her couch, staring back at him in confusion. “You're an angel?” she asked.

“I am.”

“Do you not…” Babs bit her lip, thinking better of it.

Cas’s upper lip twitched into a snarl. “What? Have wings?”

Her quiet stare was an answer.

He snorted. “You can't see them. Not with your pathetic human eyes.”

She sat up, and Cas made no move to stop or help her. “Dean told me you were tortured.”

Castiel stiffened, thumb mid-way through striking his lighter.

“I can only assume you were either a prisoner of war or a rebel soldier.”

Cas flicked his lighter shut with an annoyed huff. “Rebel soldier,” he mumbled around the rolled paper between his lips.

“I am going to touch your shoulder now.”

Babs reached one hand out, and Cas only flinched a little. “I was a rebel soldier, too. If you ever need to talk to someone-”

Cas shrugged her off and stood up curtly, lighting his cig in one fell swoop. “I'll be sure to seek out a therapist and not a glorified nanny.”

To her honor, Babs only snorted. “High and mighty, huh? Think you can't be hurt again if you push everyone away? I'll tell you one thing, Castiel-” Babs stood up and snatched the cigarette from his lips, glancing towards the kitchen with a fond expression, “Love will always find you.”

“God I hope not.”

Babs turned a sharp eye his way, but found obvious fear lurking under the icy anger. “Tell me about God,” she asked softly.

His eyes hardened. “Wouldn't know. Haven't met him.”

Dean walked in, precariously balancing three tea cups in his hands. “Ha! Haven't done this in months. Here, Cas, take one. Yeah no shush, I know you don't drink. Just give it a try. It'll help.”

Seeing as Babs had already put out his cigarette, Cas huffed and took a cup reluctantly. “I neither need nor desire your kindness.”

“What a coincidence! I neither need nor desire your attitude!” Dean sassed back, eyebrow raised.

Dean and Babs both drank a sip, while Cas merely stared at his tea before announcing, “They will murder you, Dean Heeren, for helping me.”

Dean snorted. “I'd like to see them try.”

Cas looked over to where Dean sat on the couch. “How did you hide for so long? How have they not found and destroyed you yet?”

Dean patted the spot next to him. “My guess is they're not looking.”

Cas’s free hand tangled in his own hair. “Of _course_ they're looking! I am a _commander_ and you are a _vessel!_ They need you for the Apocalypse!” Cas took a few deep, wheezing breaths. “They're going to find you. They're going to find _me._ They're-”

“Cas.”

Castiel looked at Dean with wild eyes.

Dean stood up and gently took Cas’s tea mug. “You're shaking the tea out, _en sa_. Sit down. Drink some tea. Relax. We’ve got you now. You're safe with us.”

Cas let Dean lead him to the couch, drawing his knees up to his chest. “What did you call me?” Cas asked weakly.

Dean shrugged. “It just slipped out.”

Cas took a few sips of tea and shut his eyes. “Thank you.”

Dean reached out as if to touch him, but thought better of it. “Anytime, Cas.”


	56. Chapter 56

“This is going to hurt, Cas.”

Cas glared at the ceiling. “I am sure I have suffered through worse.”

“And it's going to take a long time.”

Cas huffed, “In the grand scheme of things, it will not take long at all.”

Dean nodded at the tattoo artist, who shrugged and started on Castiel’s torso. Cas gritted his teeth and glared harder at the ceiling. “When will your brother be back with his child?”

“Do you honestly care?”

“No, not at all.”

Dean chuckled to himself. “Should be home tonight, _en sa._ Then I can introduce you to him.”

The tattoo artist cleared his throat. “You'd look good with a lip piercing and gauges,” he said absently.

Dean felt his face flush at the thought of Cas biting his lips in thought, toying with a lip ring.

He glanced down to see Castiel regarding him curiously. “Then please, give me those,” Castiel said, not taking his eyes off Dean.

The artist raised his eyebrows. “Oh, alright. That was an easy sell. I'll do the piercing after this and get you started on the gauges.”

Castiel slowly licked his bottom lip, and Dean averted his eyes only to hear Castiel laugh for the first time.

“My, my, Heeren. Fallen for the fallen angel, haven't we?”

Dean sneered at him in return. “Like you said. Just my soul doing some screaming.”

“You two aren't together?” the artist said.

“No!” they responded in unison.

\---

“My side hurts,” Cas grumbled.

“Tattoos’ll do that to ya.”

“And my brothers will not be able to find me now, correct?”

“Mhm. They haven't found me, and like you said, they've been looking.”

Cas grumbled some more before transporting them back to the apartment.

Dean sat and read a book (finally!) as Castiel stared at nothing and fiddled with his lip ring.

“Stop touching it,” Dean mumbled, turning a page. “It'll get infected.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Gabriel.”

“What?”

“It’s-... Nothing. Nevermind.”

The door finally opened and Dean immediately stood up, grinning wide upon seeing Sam and Jess. Jess held a finger to her lips, nodding at the sleeping baby in her arms.

Dean walked towards them as Castiel took a few steps back. He briefly hugged each of them before jerking his thumb back at Castiel. “That's the angel,” he whispered.

Sam beamed at Cas. “Nice to meet-” Castiel shrank away from Sam’s outstretched hand.

Dean huffed. “Cas. Be _nice.”_

Cas curled his lip at Sam. “I'm not shaking hands with that _abomination._ _”_

Dean grabbed his own anger and shoved it back, taking a few deep breaths. “Cas. This is my _brother.”_

“Yes, and he has demon blood coursing through his veins! I'm not _touching_ him!”

Everyone paused.

“I have… what now?” Sam asked.

Cas scowled, “You heard me.”

Sam’s jaw set, the fire lit his eyes. “Ah, I see. Dean's found himself another John.”

Castiel blinked. “My name’s not-”

Sam took a step forward, using the bit of height he had on Cas to his advantage. “I know. It's Castiel, _asshole_ of the Lord. You're not going to take advantage of my brother's need to fucking _fix_ everyone that comes his way. Thanks for the info or whatever. Now _get the fuck out.”_

“Sam,” Dean started, “he was-”

Sam’s eyes flashed towards Dean. “Tortured, yes, I know. Just like you, Dean. And you're not an asshole.”

“Wait.”

Everyone turned to look at Cas.

“I… I don't want to be a John. How do I fix this?”

Sam opened his mouth to snap something back, but Billy decided right that moment to wake up and start screaming. Sam sighed and glared at Castiel, “We will discuss this later. For now, get out of my house.”

Dean leaned over to whisper to Castiel, “We can go for a walk later and talk about things, okay?”

Cas whispered back uncertainly, “I don't need your charity.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Just walk with me and be honest when we do, okay?”

“I make no promises.”

\---

It was almost two hours before Dean could slip out, between showing Sam and Jess how to rock a baby to sleep and swapping stories. He waited until all three were sound asleep before hastily writing a note and slipping out the door.

Castiel was waiting outside, leaning against a neighboring building and smoking another cigarette.

Dean approached him and low-whistled. “You're gonna give yourself lung cancer like that,” he said, nodding his head at the tobacco.

Cas shrugged and breathed out a cloud of smoke. “Angels cannot contract lung cancer.”

Dean leaned beside him, shrugging his jacket tighter and staring up at the clear night sky. “So is that the truth or a lie?”

Cas glanced at him. “Truth.”

Dean smiled a little. “My father was an asshole,” he said.

Cas snorted. “Truth.”

“And you're an asshole.”

“...Truth.”

“Why?”

“Why is the sky blue?”

“Blue light scatters farther when it breaks through the atmosphere,” Dean stated easily.

Cas laughed softly. “Where I'm from, the answer would have been 'because Father commanded it to be so.’”

Dean raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Castiel’s backlit figure. “So you're an asshole because God commanded it?”

Cas pursed his lips, holding the cigarette there as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “God hasn't commanded anything for eons.”

“Then what's He been doing?”

Cas shrugged, spitting out his cigarette and crushing it with his heel. “My guess is that he was so affronted by his creation that he went off and created a better one.”

“Harsh.”

Cas glowered at the street lamp in front of him. “Life is meaningless and nothing matters.”

“Quite the nihilist, aren't we?”

Cas huffed.

Dean couldn't help the smug smirk that spread across his face. “So if nothing matters, why does it matter if nothing matters?”

Cas looked over, eyes narrowed. “What are you?”

“An absurdist. Everything is pointless, nothing matters _including_ the fact that nothing matters, so fuck it all and live how you want.”

Cas made an interested noise. “Absurdist,” he tried.

“Wanna join the club?”

Cas smiled a real, genuine smile. “I think I'll stick with my leather jackets and psychological crises, but thank you.”

Dean laughed. “Well, you're lucky. Leather jackets go well with crises.” He motioned to his own.

Cas grinned at Dean. “So it's your soul in me telling me I look good in one, then?”

Dean definitely didn't blush just a little. “What can I say? I'm a sucker for leather jackets.”

“A sucker?”

Now. _Now_ Dean blushed. “It's… It's just a phrase…”

Cas hummed to himself, completely oblivious. They were silent for a long time, simply enjoying the night, before Castiel finally said, “I was fighting for you.”

“For… me?”

“Well, you as in humanity. That's why I was taken in. Every time. It was for humanity.” He hunched his shoulders. “Every time I believe in something, I get hurt. I believe in you, Dean. I'd follow you to the ends of the Earth, and that scares me.”

Dean gave him a soft smile. “Yeah, and you'd gripe and complain the whole way, right?”

“Of what use would I be if I didn't?”

Dean laughed aloud, holding a hand to his own head as he calmed into chuckles. He looked at Cas, who appeared immensely pleased with himself, and felt that tug at his soul, the urge to reach out and touch.

His fingers grazed Castiel’s cheek, and Cas’s eyes widened. “What are you-” Cas started, only to be cut off by a shudder. “Dean.”

“You're crying,” Dean noted softly, thumbing away a tear. Cas shook his head and closed his eyes as Dean ran a gentle hand through his hair. “Why are you crying, Cas?”

“You're so soft,” he said quietly.

Dean understood the feeling. “Has anyone ever held you for anything other than pain?”

Cas shook his head. “Not for centuries. Damn,” he whispered, wiping away his tears, “Your soul keeps giving me emotions.”

Dean laughed. “Souls will do that.”

“I hate them.”

“Souls?”

Cas shook slightly as Dean’s hand ghosted along his cheek. “Emotions.”

Dean pulled Cas in, resting Castiel’s head against his shoulder. “Buddy,” Dean started softly, “You've gotta be kind. To me, to Sammy, to Jess, to everyone.”

Cas tensed against Dean. “Kindness gets you hurt.”

Dean ran a gentle hand through Castiel's hair again, noting the way his body relaxed. “Kindness gets you _loved_ , Castiel.”

Cas shuddered and pretended to grumble.

“You can hold me back, Cas,” Dean whispered against his ear.

Cas awkwardly wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist. “I don't understand this.”

“It's called a snuggle. It helps ya feel better.”

“How?”

Dean shrugged as much as Cas’s head would allow. “Something to do with bonding hormones.”

Castiel suddenly winced. “I slapped you earlier.”

“You did.”

“That… That wasn't kind.”

“You're right, Cas. It wasn't very kind.”

Cas nodded, as if to himself. “I will prepare the proper sacrifices at the earliest possible-”

“Cas,” Dean said, laughing slightly. “Just apologize.”

“Apologize?”

“Yeah. You just say, 'I’m sorry that I hurt you.’”

Cas pulled back, hesitated, then used one finger to turn Dean’s head towards his. “I… I am sorry that I hurt you.”

Dean smiled. “I forgive you.”

Cas looked to the darkened apartment windows. “I should also apologize to Sam.”

“Yes, you should. What was that about the demon blood, though?”

“Oh. Sam was fed demon blood in his nursery just before your mother died.”


	57. Chapter 57

“I thought we were going back to-”

“Shush,” Dean interrupted Cas, unlocking the door. “You and I are gonna talk some more first. Mom won't care if we stay here.”

Cas gave Dean a funny look. “Mom?”

Dean waved his hand dismissively. “Babs. Close the door behind ya, would ya?”

Cas obeyed, glancing around the pitch-black apartment. “Why do you refer to her as mom?”

Dean walked towards his room. “Long story. She took me in, cared for me when no one else did, basically.”

“Like you're doing for me?”

Dean paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Kinda… sorta. I guess. It's… different.”

“Different how?”

Dean felt his face redden. “Just different.” He opened his door and laid on his bed, sighing.

“Why are you helping me?” Castiel asked, the bed dipping down when he sat on it.

“Goddammit,” Dean responded absently, his eyes closed.

“I… don't understand.”

Dean went over to his bookshelf and felt around the second shelf, running his fingers over the titles Babs had alphabetized for him. _E, F, G..._

“Here,” Dean mumbled, pulling out what felt like the right book. “Just read this and figure it out. Should be _Rosewater._ I'm gonna shower.”

“Dean.”

“Hm?”

The lights flicked on, and Cas raised an eyebrow at him.

Dean looked at Cas, then at the lights, and groaned. “ _D_ _ammit,”_ he whispered.

“I'm sure you will become accustomed to having your sight again,” Castiel tried slowly.

Dean looked at him and felt some tension ease out of his shoulders. “Thanks, Cas.”

Cas seemed to perk up a little. “I will read this…” he glanced down at the book, “ _God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater_ while you shower.”

Dean smiled, grabbed a spare shirt and boxers, and headed for the bathroom.

\---

He wasn't quite ready to look at his own body yet.

He had gone almost 48 hours without a shower and _shit_ a lot had happened and he just…

Couldn't.

Not yet.

So he left the lights off.

It was almost easier this way, with the darkness around him. It was familiar; his brain _understood_ this.

It didn't understand Cas. Or Heaven. Or that he was _hunted_ now or or or-

_Breathe, Dean._

Dean exhaled shakily.

Cas. With his fucking blue eyes.

Fuck. If Cas was go-...

_Don't censor yourself._

If Cas was gone when he got out, that would still be it. The first thing he had seen after eight months of darkness. His damn… his fucking _damn-_

Dean sighed and felt out his shampoo, which was thankfully now a smaller bottle than his conditioner. He lathered up his hair.

He had done good, avoiding mirrors and shit. He remembered the darkness under Sam’s eyes and he…

He dropped the conditioner he had picked up.

He couldn't deal with the idea of losing his looks.

He shouldn't care.

At least, that's what he told himself as he finished his hair. He shouldn't care what he looked like…

But…

For so long, that was the only thing anyone had ever complimented him on. The only thing about himself he was confident in.

...He didn't want to see it gone. Not yet.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was sitting down in the shower and holding his head in his hands, crying.

_Overwhelmed._

“Dean?”

Dean yelped, trying to stand up and slipping instead. “Castiel! You can't just-!”

“The lights are off,” Cas whispered, sounding like he was crouching beside the tub.

Dean sighed through his nose, wiping his eyes only to have shower water spray back onto his face. “Yeah, Cas. The lights are off.” Dean reached back and turned the shower off.

“I'm frowning,” Cas announced after a moment.

Dean pulled his legs up to his chest, feeling a bit vulnerable despite the darkness. “Why are you frowning, Cas?”

Dean felt soft fingers graze his cheek. “Your soul is yelling for me again.” Pause. “You're crying.”

Dean hunched in on himself even more. “I'm fine.”

“You're lying.”

“You wouldn't understand.”

“Let me try?”

Dean huffed. “Fine. Hand me a towel.” There was a moment, and then soft fabric was in his hands. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

Cas waited patiently for Dean to dry off and wrap the towel around his waist. Dean leaned back against the sink and ran a hand over his face. “What if…” Dean started, “What if I got ugly during the past few months?”

“Ugly?”

“Yeah like… What if I don't look good anymore?”

“Do… looks concern you?”

“Yes- no… just my own.”

“You're gorgeous. Next problem.”

Dean paused. “What?”

“I informed you that you're gorgeous. Was that the only issue or are there more?”

Dean turned his head away. “Don't tell me you decided to finally start lying to me.”

Cas huffed. “I'm not lying. Humans were created to be glorious creatures of their own devices. You all bloom and die like flowers, lifetimes mere seconds in the grand scheme. You wear your soul on your face, Dean,” Cas said gently, a hand against Dean’s soul. “I can see it alongside your mortal body, glowing and pulsing like magma and far away galaxies.” There was a pause, and Dean could almost _feel_ the small frown on Castiel’s face. “It calls to me. You are the most beautiful of my father’s creations.”

“You can't say shit like that, Cas,” Dean breathed, the words dripping from his lips.

“Why not?”

“It's so… intimate.”

“And if I desired to be intimate with you?” Castiel asked, breath ghosting against Dean’s lips. “Would that be a problem?”

Dean’s eyes fell shut. “No,” he breathed.

“You're beautiful, Dean,” Cas breathed back.

Dean shuddered.

“But… no.”

Dean opened his eyes, straining to see Castiel’s through the fog in his mind. “What?”

“You need validation right now. I can feel it. Your soul resounds within me. But you must find it within yourself.”

“I-...”

“My grace is screaming for you, Dean. I can feel that, too. The closer we are-” Castiel’s chest brushed against Dean’s, “-the louder it screams. But I know it's just… longing for the rest of itself. It's… maddening. Overwhelming.” Castiel sighed and stepped back, and Dean mourned the loss of heat. “You are beautiful, Dean Heeren. And you don't need me to tell you that.”

Dean crossed his arms and grumbled.

“Turn around,” Cas said softly, gently turning Dean towards the mirror behind him.

The lights flicked on with no move from either.

“See? You're beautifu-”

“ _WHAT THE FUCK?!”_ Dean leapt backwards, tumbling directly into Castiel, who let out an _oof._

Cas held Dean upright, strong hands braced firmly against his hips. “You'll wake up your mother.”

Dean shook his head, eyes glued to his own chest. “She… heavy sleeper…” he mumbled, eyes wide and hands trembling. “What the _fuck_ is on my chest?!”

He ran his fingers over the outlines of his numb skin, looking at the jagged lines and raised flesh, almost as if lightning itself had grabbed him.

“I… I appear to have held onto you quite desperately.”

Dean met Castiel’s eyes in the mirror, bewildered. “So what? This is your _handprint?!”_

“I… I suppose. Yes.”

Dean closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair, taking deep breaths.

_It was gone. It was gone. It was g-_

Soft fingers traced up his stomach to the giant electric handprint.

“I'll remove it for you,” Castiel whispered in his ear. Dean shuddered.

Fingertips traced over every inch of skin that he hadn't felt for months. Tingles ran across his entire body, and before he knew what was happening, his head was falling back against Castiel’s shoulder and his hands were tangling in Cas’s hair because goddammit it all felt so _right._

For once, his soul was singing.

“Dean,” Cas growled in his ear, “I can feel your longing.”

“Your hands are nowhere _near_ my longing,” Dean mumbled back.

He felt Cas’s lips curl into a smile against his ear, then whisper, “Open your eyes, Dean.”

Dean obeyed, staring at the ceiling. “This is underwhelming.”

Cas snorted and gently pulled Dean’s head to look at himself in the mirror.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. “It's still there.”

“Of course. Why would I remove the mark itself? I removed the nerve damage, as I did for the rest of your body in Heaven.”

“Wait, what?”

Castiel’s fingers traced up the side of his neck, to his ear. “Your hearing,” his breath ghosted against Dean’s jaw. “Your other nerves. Your sense of smell. Taste. Everything. I fixed it all.”

Dean watched Castiel trace his body with hooded eyelids. “Cas, I'm willing to bet you didn't have to touch me to heal me,” he said, voice raspy.

Castiel’s hands paused. “You would be correct.”

Dean smirked. “So you're doing as shit a job as me ignoring the feelings, huh?”

Cas huffed and grumbled, “They told me demons would try to tempt me, but, no. It's just you and your fleshy little prison.”

Dean smiled lazily and glanced back at his own body. “So this is your handprint, huh?”

“In a sense.”

“Hm. You know, I've always kinda had a thing for people marking me.”

For a moment, it was almost like the lights flickered, then Castiel scowled, “You have no impulse control, do you?”

“Sure I do. I just don't particularly want to control this one.”

“You should get to bed.”

“How? You're still holding me.”

“At this point I'm not sure that I can let go.”

“Then don't.”

“Dean.”

“Castiel.”

This time, the lights _definitely_ flickered.

Dean smirked. “What? You got a name kink or something?”

Cas growled and let him go.

Dean turned towards him, grinning. “Hey, where'd your lip ring go?”

“The wound healed too quickly.”

“Hm.” Dean licked his own lips. “Pity.”

Cas glared at him before turning on his heel and walking to the bedroom.

Dean laughed and followed.


	58. Chapter 58

“I don't require sleep.”

Dean pouted at him from under the covers. “But we could snuggle!”

Cas glared at him amusedly. “You want more than to snuggle.”

Dean gave him a lazy smirk. “It was worth a shot.” He stretched his arms over his head and turned to look at Cas. “Tell me about that demon blood shit.”

Cas frowned. “The demon’s name is Azazel. He was intent upon creating an army of demon-powered children, with Sam at the frontlines.”

“Sounds like a whack job.”

“Quite. He would sneak into nurseries of six month old babies and bleed into their mouths.”

“Oh wha- fuck! That's _disgusting!”_

Cas shrugged. “If he was caught, he would burn the house down.”

Dean searched Castiel's face. “Like-...”

“...Yes.”

“Oh.” Dean stared at the ceiling for a while. “Was… Was John really tailing him? Was he close to killing the bastard?”

Cas shook his head. “No. He was being led on by Azazel. The plan was… long and complicated. And still might come to fruition.”

“What do you mean?”

“Azazel is still on the loose. He is going to come back after Sam, either by physically showing up or tricking him. He may start having certain… _powers_ soon.” Castiel sat down on the edge of the bed, toeing off his boots.

“You mean like visions or…?”

“It's a possibility.”

“He already had some.”

Castiel raised his eyebrow at Dean. “Repeat that?”

“He saw some giant monster thing coming at Bobby’s house. Oh, and he saw me die.”

Cas groaned and flopped back against the bed, his head landing on Dean’s stomach. “That was _me_ , you idiots! I was trying to find you!”

“I… yeah… Okay, that makes sense.”

Cas sighed, then turned his head towards Dean. “If Sam is already having visions, Azazel has enacted his plan early.”

Dean hummed. “Is Sam in danger?”

“Not immediate, no. As long as he understands fully what is happening, he is okay.”

Dean ran his hands through Castiel's hair soothingly. “Then it's not our problem.”

Cas closed his eyes. “Okay. I may be able to remove the demon blood from him as well as his child.”

“Sounds good, _en sa._ ”

A smile tugged at Castiel’s lips. “You keep calling me that. Do you even know what it means?”

“No clue. I could always call you Lagnos.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows at Cas.

Cas snorted. “Do you even speak Greek?”

“Óchi.”

Cas grinned, then opened his eyes and looked at Dean again. “ _En sa_ is Enochian.”

“Enochian?”

“The language of angels and demons. I'm sure it is me within you that is speaking it.”

“Hm. Sam _did_ say I was spouting shit when he grabbed my shoulder.”

Cas nodded. “You called to me. I heard you.”

“What does it mean?”

“Literally, _my entire.”_

“My entire what?”

“Just… my entire.”

“Is there like… an English equivalent or…?”

“The rest of me,” Castiel whispered. “My soul.”

“ _En sa.”_

Cas closed his eyes, shivering. There was a long quiet, and then Dean’s voice flowed across his ears, reciting.

“Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you. Oh God, it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life. I cannot live without my soul.”

Castiel was staring at Dean wide-eyed, mouth slightly open. “What-... What was that?”

Dean smiled at him. “That was _Wuthering Heights.”_ He looked at the wide-open fascination on Castiel’s face and chuckled. “Would you like to hear more of what I study?”

“You get to _study_ this?!”

“Why, yes,” Dean smirked. “Hm, let's see… Of all the words of Mice and Men, the saddest are-”

“-It might have been,” Cas finished softly.

“You know that one?”

“I read it while you were in the shower.”

Dean returned to playing with Cas’s hair, leaning his head back against the pillow and closing his eyes. “You were _supposed_ to read _Rosewater_ and figure out the whole ‘goddammit’ thing.”

Cas nodded. “Goddammit, you've got to be kind.” He paused. “I'm a fast reader.”

Dean made some sort of noise of acknowledgement, dropping one hand to run along the stubble at Castiel’s cheek. “Did you read all of my books?”

Castiel’s eyes were dropping shut of their own accord. “I-... No, just… just the Kurt Vonnegut Jr. ones.”

Dean groaned involuntarily. “Fuck that's hot,” he whispered, before clearing his throat. “Which was your favorite?”

“My favorite?”

“Yeah. Your favorite Kurt book says a lot about you.”

“ _Mother Night.”_

Dean breathed deeply. “We are what we pretend to be,” he quoted. “Dude preaching shit he didn't believe. Is that what you connected with?”

“Yes, I believe so. Forced to fight against his own morals. Which is your favorite?”

Dean’s fingers caressed the side of Castiel’s throat. “ _Cat’s Cradle.”_

Cas leaned his head to the side, giving better access. “No damn cat, no damn cradle,” Cas quoted shakily. “The idea that people will lie to themselves and others to feel safe and happy.”

“Or the idea that God doesn't care,” Dean mumbled, letting his hand drift down to Castiel’s collarbone.

“He definitely doesn't.”

“But you do.”

“That's why I always fought.”

Dean hooked his hands under Cas’s arms, pulling him gently up beside him. They gazed into each other's eyes.

“This feels like a bad idea,” Cas said.

“Young adult. Raging hormones. What can I say?” Dean joked, but the smile didn't disrupt the wide-eyed awe in his eyes.

“Why me?”

Dean bit his bottom lip, then quoted, “That is a very Earthling question to ask, Mr. Pilgrim. Why you? Why us for that matter? Why anything? Because this moment simply is. Have you ever seen bugs trapped in amber?”

“Yes,” Cas breathed.

“Well, here we are, Mr. Pilgrim, trapped in the amber of this moment.” Dean leaned in, his breath ghosting over Castiel’s lips. “There is no why.”

And Cas was surging forward, lips connecting and hands pulling and searching and souls _singing_ as they came as close as they ever could again. Tongues were exploring mouths wait throats wait chests wait-

Lights shattered all around them, broken glass falling like stardust.

Cas’s head snapped up. “Your-” his voice was rough and low and Dean whimpered. “Your mother awakens.”

“ _En sa_ ,” Dean whispered, sliding his hands through Castiel’s hair. “ _I_ _pamis uls.”_

Cas groaned, letting his head fall against Dean’s chest. “No, it will not be the end,” he agreed. He raised his head to look at Dean, and his brow furrowed. “Your eyes…”

The glowing blue of Dean’s eyes met the dull blue of Castiel’s quietly.

Cas couldn't breathe for a moment.

Dean leaned up to press deep kisses against Castiel’s mouth.

Tears rolled down Castiel’s cheeks. “I've destroyed you,” Castiel whispered against Dean’s lips.

A knock sounded at the door. “Dean?” Babs asked groggily. “You okay?”

Cas dropped his head beside Dean’s, whispering shakily in his ear, “Say, yes.”

“Yes,” Dean called out, the word sounding foreign on his tongue.

“Mk,” Babs mumbled from behind the door, walking away.

Cas stared at the glowing blue eyes.

“ _En sa,”_ Dean pleaded softly. “ _Bagile gen elasa racl?”_

_My soul, why do you weep?_

“ _Ol racl lap ol barinu elasa quasaba.”_

_I weep, for I have killed you._


	59. Chapter 59

Turbulent.

That's how Dean felt as his lips ran across Castiel’s throat.

Like his consciousness was being sucked backwards. Like the bright part of his soul was yanking forward, and the dark part yanking back.

It was not his hands running down Castiel's back, but it was his fingertips pushing up under his shirt. His lips moved; he did not tell them what words to say. Like he was strapped to a rollercoaster - or a merry go round. Somewhere between.

Castiel’s mouth brushed against Dean’s chest, his tongue tracing out every sensitive inch of skin, and Dean felt a surge of power. Like he was grabbed again. Like this was Heaven, and here was Cas, and yes they were escaping again - but together, together, always together.

Stardust fell in droves, and Dean saw Creation.

Did he end? Did he begin? Where did the outline of him become the outline of Castiel? He traced up and felt hair, but his soul traced farther and felt a mane and holes and scarring - _horrible scarring-_

Was he Castiel? Was Castiel him?

Thumbs hooked around his boxers and he knew.

They were the same.

_Say yes._

“Yes.” What? What word?

Why was he crying? Was he crying?

… Where did the rest of him go?

His arm was missing. And his leg. His heartbeat - his soul. Where-

“ _My entire, come with me, please,”_ he said to himself. He followed himself. He would follow himself anywhere - anywhere, to the end of time incarnate-

_“W̶̥̟͈h̥͎̯̝͋͐ͪ̒ą̼̤̹͇̖̪͔̐́̔̽̃̂ͭţ̤͎ͭ̋͋ ̜̫͉̤̞̠̺ͫ͌ͧ̒͑t͔͓̺̤̟̹̺h̡̠͓̺̾ͅe̲̠̓̓͊̎̈́͟ ̼̼͎͓͉̳̊̏̉h̤̭̙̩̣̝̫ͤ͛̊ͣ̔e͒̏ḻ͙̹̤̽̎̾̏͗ͩ͒ľ̅͏̲̩̺̻̻ ͓̤̙̦͛̌̑ͮ̌̒ͯh̵a͓̤̞̻̤͓̺ͧp̮̘̱̠͔͚̋̽̇̾̚p͓̠̃͋ͪͦ͟e͔ͧ̂͂͐͊͆n͔̜̥̮͇͙̖͆ͤ͋̂ȇ̛̳̰̥ͭd̴̻̓͑ͣ͒ͤ ̘ţ̭̿ͬͧ̔̚ỏ̡̳͚̬ͮ̍̚ ̈̂̐͢D̤ͥ́͌͆̑͑e͓̼̦ͯ͊ͧ̃̾͌̈a̟̗ͥ̾̋̀̔̓̒n͓̣ͨ?̡̰͎͚͓ͦ̓ͦ̀!̠̠̺͎̣̰̣͗̈̽ͤͦͦ̐͘ͅ”_

His own hands were against his cheeks, he was crying, he was saying Bobby would help, he was-

He was coughing. Dean was coughing.

And Castiel was holding onto him for dear life.

\---

“Please, please, drink this,” Castiel pleaded, pushing a mug into Dean’s hands.

Dean's head was swimming and he just groaned and burrowed tighter against Cas, spilling the tea.

“Hon, be careful! That's hot!” Babs grabbed the mug, hastily handing Castiel a towel.

Cas shook his head. “It doesn't affect me.”

Bobby sighed through his nose and crossed his arms. “Mind explainin’ yet?”

Babs laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Give them time.”

Bobby huffed.

Cas looked up at them both from the couch, painfully aware of everywhere he was touching Dean. “My… My grace overpowered him.”

Dean flinched and hid his face against Cas’s shoulder, and the teacup shattered on the table.

Cas looked like he was going to vomit. “My apologies. My grace is _still_ overpowering him.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow.

“It's… It's sort of like… It’s an angel’s power. Our… soul.”

“And why is yours in him?”

“Not all of it! Just… more than I originally thought.”

“ _En sa,”_ Dean said weakly, raising his head to look at Castiel. “I feel… _maelpereji_.”

Castiel took a shuddering breath. “ _En maelpereji turbs…”_

“Is he… Is he speaking in tongues?!” Bobby fumed.

Castiel nodded. “It is my tongue he speaks in. Please, you have such knowledge. Fix him.”

Bobby sighed and ran a hand over his beard. “Damn… let me make some calls.” He patted his pajama pockets. “Where-...?”

Babs wrapped her arms around herself. “The bedroom, I believe.”

Bobby grumbled a “thanks” and lumbered out.

Dean was slippery when Cas pushed his hair out of his face. Sweat poured off of him, and his eyes fizzled with blue, pulsating. Dean smiled at him, all breathless and dizzy, and placed a hand against his own chest. _"En sa,”_ he said, “ _tiolph zomdv…_ heart…”

Cas placed a hand gently over Dean’s mouth. “ _Shhhhh,”_ Cas whispered. “Do not speak. Sleep now.”

Dean closed his eyes and groaned, then opened them to red-rimmed, startling green. “I don't require sleep,” he teased Castiel sleepily.

Cas smiled sadly. “Yes, you do.”

Dean coughed harshly, again, again, until blood dribbled from his lips.

“Sleep, Dean.”

Two fingers against his forehead, and he was out.

\---

Dean woke up all alone.

He reached out for Castiel, but there was only air. He looked around in the dark, and some deep, bitter part of him hoped he was blind again.

Deaf, as well, for he heard nothing.

He got up slowly - ever so slowly - and turned on the lights. His room was empty. Yes, his things were still there, but the important bit was now gone.

There was no trace of Castiel.

Moving slow became running, though it seemed even slower in his eyes. He was throwing open doors and searching but he knew better.

His soul was silent.

The neighbor’s dog barked for hours, even after the screaming of loss had faded from Dean’s mouth.


	60. Chapter 60

“Dean, are you-”

_“I’M MAKING SOME GODDAMN PANCAKES, LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!”_

Bobby grimaced and got a cup of coffee, walking out of the kitchen. Dean turned yet another burnt pancake into the trash can.

Babs walked in, saying nothing. She adjusted the heat on the oven and wrapped her arms around Dean.

“He's a bitch,” Dean mumbled.

“His grace was killing you with such close proximity.”

“So? He should have stayed!”

“Dean.”

Dean grumbled and leaned into her touch.

“I'm sorry that things didn't turn out for the best, but you need to let him g-”

“Oh hell no, I'm going after him.”

Babs paused, then grinned wide and chuckled slightly. “Ah, there's my son.”

“But he won't come back until his grace is outta me so I gotta find a way to pull it out.”

Babs released Dean easily, pouring some batter into his pan. “He said he contained it deep within your soul for now, but that it was so enmeshed it would be impossible to ever fully separate them.”

Dean made a noise of indignation. “I died and came back to life. If anyone can figure out the impossible, it's me. And _when_ I figure it out, I'm dragging his bitch ass back here.”

Babs smiled softly. “What's so special about this one man?”

“Angel, not man,” he remarked, pointing his spatula at her. “He read all of my Vonnegut books because he _liked them._ ”

“Oh my. You're attached now.”

“Attached? Fuck attached. I’m _way_ past attached.”

“What? Is that your one criteria?”

Dean mulled it over. “Basically, yeah.” He flipped the pancake onto a plate.

“Ah, to be young and fall so easily,” Barbara sighed dramatically, scooping up the plate.

“Oh, don't act like it's just me falling for people!”

Babs eyed him amusedly. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

He side-eyed her, a smile tugging at his lips. “Bobby spent the night.”

“He's done that a few times.”

“Mom-”

“Okay, well… maybe more than a few times.”

Dean raised an eyebrow.

“He hasn't… I mean, we’re not-...”

“He lives here.”

“Not… officially. It just sort of happened.”

Dean began brewing some tea.

Babs smiled past her blush. “I'm not getting out of this, am I?”

“Nope!” Dean paused. “But dear God no sex stories.”

Babs rolled her eyes. “Not that kinda relationship, Dean.”

“Hm,” Dean hummed absently.

Babs took her tea once it was ready, holding it close and blowing some steam away. “We both have experienced… heartfelt loss in our lives. Neither of us can ever truly let that go. But… we… We understand each other. We’re kindred spirits, I think, that just don't want to be alone anymore.”

“Equals, not lovers,” Dean mumbled, flipping a pancake. “So what should I call y’all?”

“I'm… not sure. We haven't really talked about it.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at her. “Mom.”

“Dean.”

“Talk to him.”

Babs buried her blush behind her teacup. “It's been _years_ since I've had to talk about this with someone. Heck, _decades._ I don't know what to say.”

Dean put his hands on her cheeks, forcing her to look at him. “Start with hi,” he offered, smiling.

She sighed and nodded, finishing her tea and heading towards the living room.

And Dean definitely wasn't eavesdropping when he heard her say, “Hi.”

\---

“Hi,” Dean whispered softly, hoping Castiel would hear him, somewhere. He paused, ransacked his brain, and rephrased shakily, “ _Toatare.”_

The only answer was the air conditioner kicking on.

\---

What moments of Dean’s life that weren't taken up by class or searching for his angel were taken up by Billy.

The kid was growing like a freaking _weed_ and Dean could never seem to school the broad grin on his face every time he saw the chubby baby.

Sam and Jess used to lecture him about spoiling Billy, but eventually they figured out that Dean was unfixable. He _adored_ the kid.

Sam, for his part, loved to watch Dean with Billy. It felt like he was watching Dean raise _him._

If Billy started crying when Dean was nearby, Dean would scoop him up and softly sing “Hey Jude” until the crying stopped.

Sam learned that's what Mary used to sing.

Dean was the _best_ at peek-a-boo. He was embarrassed the first time they caught him, but after that, he didn't seem to care who saw. He loved Billy, and that was that.

Their class schedules worked out pretty well, too. There was always at least one of them around to take care of the baby, and, well, if there were usually more toys scattered around when it was Dean's shift, then who really cared? Because, as much as Dean loved Billy, Billy loved Dean, too.

Which is why Dean was cooing at the baby, bag slung on his shoulder, finger trapped in a tiny fist.

“Uncle Dean will be back, okay? And then we can have fun and listen to some _good_ music and take lots of naps!”

Jess laughed softly at the exchange. “You got everything you need?”

“Yep! Forms, paper, the whole shebang.”

Sam gently took Billy from him. “It's a bit of a distance for a paper, isn't it?”

“Okay, _yes_ but I am super interested in the topic so…”

Sam laughed. “Got ya. Well, be safe. Keep us updated. Love you.”

Dean beamed at them all. “I love y'all, too.”


	61. The Adventure of the Dancing Men

Dean stepped off the bus, shouldering his bag tighter. He hated outside research. Well - fuck, that wasn't true. He loved it. But he would rather be tracking down Cas than interviewing a professor who invented a new library classification system. He, ah… He had a tender spot in his heart for the Dewey Decimal.

Well, at least he could make use of a new library.

He walked into the local college, looking around at the unfamiliar architecture. Fuck, where was the office again? Why were there so many goddamned lanterns?

“Excuse me,” he called out to the only man nearby.

The man turned around, giving him a good once-over. “Yes?”

“Could you point me in the direction of Professor Arthur Cox’s office, please?”

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder and Dean thanked him, walking off. He'd get used to the place soon, he was sure. At least they had plenty of nice landscaping.

He found the name above the office and almost sighed in relief, lifting his hand to knock. There was the sound of shuffling, then a slightly worried, “Who is it?”

“Um, hi. Dean Heeren. I'm here to interview you?”

The door opened to a slightly disheveled man, a girl ducking out hurriedly.

Dean raised an eyebrow.

The professor coughed, unaware that his top three shirt buttons were undone. “I um… forgot you were coming today.”

“Yep.”

“I-...” Cox trailed off, pulling out his chair and dropping into it.

“Should I come back later or-...?”

Cox sighed. “No, no. It's okay. Please, take a seat.”

“Same one she took?”

Cox opened and closed his mouth like a fish. “I didn't- We weren't-”

Dean huffed. “Whatever. Get your dick wet, you fucking perv. Just answer this damn questionnaire,” Dean grumbled, throwing a few sheets of paper on his desk. “I'll be back tomorrow for it.” He paused at the door. “Oh, and button your damn shirt.” Dean slammed the door behind him.

“What was that about?”

Dean turned to face the same guy from earlier.

“You work here?” Dean asked, eyebrow raised.

“I'm the librarian,” he answered, eyebrow raised back.

Dean sighed. “Fuck it. That bastard is sleeping with his students.”

The dude groaned, hand covering his face. “Believe me, I _know._ I've been trying to get him fired for _forever._ ”

Dean held out his hand. “Finally, someone with a lick of sense around here. I'm Dean.”

The man met his grip firmly. “Dick.”

“Ex-... Excuse me?”

He rolled his eyes. “My name is literally Dick.”

“That's… unfortunate. In today’s times, I mean,” Dean hurriedly assured him. “Dick Van Dyke was famous and it wasn't a real problem name until recently.”

Dick laughed. “Man, if it bothers you, you could call me Richard. Or some of my bros call me Penis. Which… that isn't any better.”

Dean grinned. “I’ll stick with Dick. We’ll see if it suits you,” Dean teased, maaaaaybe flirting. Just a little.

“Dick and Dean. We sound like a 50s rock band.”

“Fuck yeah! Oh, hey! I could interview you, if you'd like? Instead of Pedophile Triple-X over here.”

“About what?” Dick asked, motioning for Dean to follow him.

“Anything literature-related, preferably the dick-wad’s new system. I have a class back at Stanford I’ve gotta write a paper for.”

“Stanford? That's a nice school.”

“Thanks! Babs tries really hard. Your school is nice, too, though. I love all the lilies outside.”

Dick threw up his hands. “They're not even in season! I don't know why the landscaping crew pays for them.”

“Obviously it's because they're pretty.”

Dick tried to school his grin, opening a grand mirrored door for Dean. “Mi casa es su casa,” Dick announced, gesturing to the giant library.

Dean’s eyes opened wide and it took him almost a full minute to absorb all the information.

“Dean? Hey, Dean. Are you okay?” Dick was saying in his ear, waving his hand in front of his face.

Dean cleared his throat and closed his eyes tight. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. Got overwhelmed.”

“Does that happen a lot?”

“Well um… more so lately, yeah. Anyway. The new system?”

“Right! We can go to my office. You should really look around when you can. I try and keep this place beautiful from every angle.”

Dean made a waving motion with his hand. “Just… walk. Your shoes clack. I can follow you.”

Dick huffed. “Okay, but it _really_ is pretty.”

“Okay but _lead,”_ Dean said, laughing slightly.

He followed the _click-clack_ of Dick’s shoes to an office, only opening his eyes after he heard the door shut.

“You'd make a great blind person,” Dick remarked off-handedly, plopping down in a desk chair and tossing a stress ball in the air.

Dean shrugged, taking a seat. “Thanks.”

Dick missed the ball when it came down and frowned. “You wanted to know about the new system?”

“Please.”

“It's a load of crap but the school is making us adopt it. So I'm resigning from being head librarian.”

“Oh. What are you gonna do then?”

Dick shrugged. “I don't think I could leave here. I've got it good. Probably stay here somewhere. Odd jobs, random shit. Anyway. Instead of by topic, it's by the part of the world they pertain to. Which is idiotic but _who cares_ when it's a famous professor saying the shit, huh?”

Dean took a candy from the dish on the table. “He's famous?”

“As famous as a bitch can be.”

Dean snorted, candy half to his mouth. “Ah, damn. I'll just save this for later. I'm gonna inhale it if I don't.”

Dick grinned at him. “It's caramel. Take all you want. I have plenty in a secret stash.”

Dean grinned back. “I like the way you think.”

“Are you gay?”

Dean fumbled the candies he was stealing. “Wh-what?”

“Are. You. Gay.”

“I… I um… I mean, like half- I… um…”

Dick grinned. “Let me take you out tonight.”

“I-... I um… can't…”

“Why?”

Dean fidgeted.

“Bad breakup?”

“You could… say that.”

“We can go as friends, okay? Just let me take you somewhere nice. We can bitch about people we know and laugh for a while. Yeah?”

“I don't know…”

“What if I promise not to look at your ass?”

Dean couldn't help his grin. “C’mon, I've been running! I'd be a bit concerned if you didn't.”

“Oh dear, a health nut, are we? There's some restaurants downtown I haven't tried ye-”

“Oh fuck no, you're thinking of my brother. Burgers are my favorite.”

Dick threw his hands up in a mock hallelujah. “A man after my own heart.”

Dean hid his grin by looking to the side. It immediately slipped off as he stuttered, “I-is that-...?”

Dick followed his gaze. “Yeah, signed and everything.”

“The manuscript.”

“Yep.”

“For… For…”

“ _Cat's Cradle_.”

Dean looked back at Dick, wide-eyed. “I changed my mind. Skip the date. Marry me right now.”

Dick smirked. “One of us is gonna have to change gender.”

“I will gladly get boobs if you let me touch it.”

Dick leaned back, heels propped up on his desk. “My namesake or the manuscript? Either way is a yes.”

Dean practically _leapt_ out of his chair to the glass case the manuscript was in. He fisted his hands in his pockets, forcing himself not to lose his cool.

“You a Vonnegut fan?” Dick asked.

“Dude. I _always_ have a hard-on for Vonnegut.”

Dick laughed behind him. “Are you sure you're only _half_ gay?”

“Eh,” Dean said, shrugging. “I'm bi. Full gay.”

“Bi?”

“Guys and girls. Holy shit, it's like a wet dream come true.”

“Dean, I said you could touch it. It's fine.”

Dean’s fingers twitched inside his pockets. “I wouldn't want to risk messing it up…”

“Dean,” Dick whispered in his ear, making him jump, “just _touch it.”_

Dean gulped and closed his eyes, and he could've _sworn_ he saw blue when he did. But he didn't. Just the memories inside forcing their way out.

Dean cleared his throat, turning around to face Dick, smile just a bit forced. “Thank you, but I couldn't. It's already been a huge pleasure to simply see it. The offer is greatly appreciated.”

Dick frowned, but quickly schooled it back into a smile. “Hey, whatever man. Your loss. Are we still on for tonight?”

“As friends?”

“As friends. Won't make a move on ya or anything. Unless you want me to.” Dick winked.

Dean smiled, feeling more at ease. “Yeah man, sure. Sounds good. I'll meet ya here around six?”

“Nah, eight. The place I wanna take you opens late.”

Dean nodded and turned to leave, running directly into a small tree. He spat out a few leaves as Dick laughed.

“See you’ve met Oliver.”

“What, the tree?”

Dick rolled his eyes. “It's an _olive_ tree, dumbass.”

Dean grinned back at him. “You know what? Your name _does_ suit you.”

Dick stuck his tongue out and sat back in his chair. “See ya tonight, babe.”

\---

Dean spent most of the day in the library, doing theology research and discreetly reorganizing the books according to the Dewey Decimal System.

Above all, he spent the time keeping busy, so maybe he wouldn't be so nervous about tonight.

_It's not a date, Heeren._

Dean watched the clock hands tick steadily onward.

_Okay but what if Dick thinks it is, and awkward stuff happens, and-_

Dean sighed.

_I couldn't do that to Cas._

_We’re not even together._

_I can't feel the tug on my soul anymore._

_But…_

_I need him. God knows I need him._

Dean shut his eyes and rested his head against the cool wood of the table.

_Cas, you there? It's me, Dean. Just checking in again to say I'm okay and I miss you._

_Please come back._

_Amen._

“You seem bored.”

Dean looked up to see Dick smiling in a very modern suit.

“Well if I had known we were dressing up-”

“I've got stuff that would fit you, if you're worried about that. We could go back to my house and you could try some things on?”

Dean frowned at the bright street lamp that streamed in from the window, silhouetting Dick in white light. “I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

Dick’s fingers twitched against the table. “I can't figure you out, Dean. C’mon, let’s go. We’re only a little early.”

Dean got up, shouldering his bag that had a few books in it for the morning. “You gonna tell me where we’re going yet?”

“Nah, it's a surprise.”

“Hm, a surprise date with a man I just met. Better call my brother.”

“It's a date?”

Dean’s face immediately turned red. “N-no. No, it's not.”

Dick winked at him. “Sure it's not. You can call your brother if you want. I won't be offended. Hell, you can even give him my license plate number!”

There was a click sound, and Dean hit send.

“Did you just take a picture of me?”

“Seemed a better precaution.”

Dick gave him an amused smile. “You think I'm a serial killer?”

“'Course not.” Dean swung his bag into Dick’s car, flashing him a grin. “I am.”

\---

“No.”

“Dean, c’mon, just-”

 _“Dick,”_ Dean hissed, getting as far back into the corner of the room as he could. “This is _not_ somewhere you just _take_ people!”

“Of course not! That's against the rules!”

An almost naked man strutted in front of Dean and Dean flattened himself further against the wall, gulping.

Dick laughed, pulling him out of the corner gently. “Come on. You've gotta get over that bad breakup of yours, and _this_ is the place to do it!”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Nope.”

 _“Dean,_ ” Dick said, placing one palm against Dean’s cheek. “Trust me.”

There was a deep familiarity in the gesture, and Dean felt himself relax a little. “I've done this with girls but never with-”

“Well _duh,_  the club is pretty secret. You know how people get.”

Dean winced. “Yeah, I do.” He finally opened his eyes, allowing himself to glance at a man on stage, twirling around the pole in a mesmerizing way. “But I'm like… I'm still… not necessarily _in love_ but also like… not _not_ in love and-”

“Woah there buster. Calm down. Go get a lap dance. Clear your head.”

“I think I'll just read my boo-”

“No way! You're going to _enjoy_ this. Hey, hey, look at me.” Dean met Dick’s eyes. “You deserve to be happy, okay? Screw whoever left you. Let's get jiggy with it.”

Dean bit his bottom lip and finally sighed. “I see his eyes every time I close my own.”

Dick looked at him, finally serious.

“And… I have these dreams where I'm just… I'm running. I'm trying to find him but he's so far away and I just… what if he's _dead_ or worse and I-” Dean cut himself off, sighing. “I miss him.”

“I'm going to kiss you now, if you say yes.”

“What?”

“I think you may be a bit confused in your head, and I want to help clear that up. But you gotta let me.”

Dean stared into Dick's eyes. “What if I say no?”

Dick shrugged. “Then I don't kiss you. Simple.”

“You… think it'll clear stuff up?”

“Dunno. I can't make a promise here, babe.”

“...Yes.”

Dick took a few slow steps forward, backing Dean against the wall. His hands traced up Dean's sides to his jaw, and his lips brushed his as he whispered, “Just relax.” Dick pressed his lips to Dean's slowly.

Dick pulled back far too soon and stared him in the eyes. “Did you wish it was him?”

Dean stared back. He wanted-... He wanted-...

Damn it all.

He just _wanted._

Dean pulled him in again, kissing him furiously, tongue darting into his mouth. He broke the kiss, lips swollen, breathing hard. “I did.”

Dick’s tongue traced against Dean’s lips, his hands tracing across Dean's sides. “Now?”

“Him,” Dean whispered, hands dropping down to grab Dick’s ass.

Dick pushed him up against the wall, grinning against his mouth. “How far can we get before it's not him?”

“Let's find out,” Dean whispered back, grinding his hips against Dick’s.

Dick gripped Dean’s shoulders tight, holding him against the wall as he slid his thigh between Dean’s legs, tongue slipping into his mouth.

And suddenly Dean wanted to throw up.

He pushed Dick away, tasting bile in his throat.

Dick furrowed his brow. “What's wrong?”

“ _Oi i ge samvelg,”_ Dean muttered, head spinning.

Dick stilled. “What language are you talking in?”

Dean shook his head, sliding down against the wall.

Dick crouched, grabbing Dean’s face and turning it towards him. “What are you?”

“'M human,” Dean mumbled, willing the dizziness to go away.

“That's not what I mea-...” Dick sighed. “C’mere. You're overwhelmed. Let's get you out of here.”

Some other guy came over, clapping Dick on the back. “Hey, if it isn't our mad trumpet player! What's jamming, man?”

Dick waved him away. “Got a poor sap here, gotta get him home. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“You play trumpet?” Dean asked, the dizziness taking full effect again. He knocked his head back against the wall.

“Yeah, I-... My whole life… Dean, really, let's get you out of here.”

Dean looked up at him, smiling. “You planted the lilies, didn't you?”

“Fine, okay, yes. I love them. Geez, I'm quitting soon anyways, tell whoever you want! For fuck's sake, _come on!”_

“ _Ol elasa quasaba.”_

“Dude, I have no idea what you're sayi-”

“ _Gabriel.”_

Dick stilled.

“ _I've been looking for you.”_


	62. Chapter 62

Gabriel dragged Dean outside, only to slam him against a wall, this time far less sexually.

With one swift movement, a dagger of some sort was plunged into Dean’s hand, pinning it to the brick.

It wasn't immediately painful. Dean turned to stare at his hand drunkenly, slowly gaining more and more consciousness until the innermost part of his soul was screaming, the echoes pouring out of his mouth.

Gabriel grabbed Dean’s chin and turned his head to either side. “What the _hell_ are you? I can't get a damn reading on your soul!”

“Ga-” Dean pleaded, swallowing down the pain, “Gabriel.”

Gabriel snarled. “And _how_ did you figure that out, too? I've been in hiding for millennia! _Who sent you?!”_

Dean forced himself to look into Gabriel’s eyes, whispering out, “Ca-... Cas…”

“Cas?”

“Cast- Castiel.”

There was a pause, and then a suspicious, “And why should I trust you?”

Dean bit his bottom lip, steeled himself, and tightened his fist around the blade piercing through it. His soul - _the grace -_ flowed up to his mind, clouding everything with its agonizing yells. _“Esiasacahe!”_

Gabriel muttered some obscenity under his breath and pulled the blade out, healing Dean’s hand in one motion. Dean gasped in air, pulling his palm against his chest.

Gabriel’s blade was gone. Instead he was pinching the bridge of his nose, sighing. “So what? Cassie in there with you?”

“Part of him,” Dean said, clenching and unclenching his fist.

“Part?”

“Yeah our… souls? Grace? Um, they got all entangled. You were the only angel he ever mentioned and I hoped-”

“Woah woah woah. Back up. You're telling me his _grace_ is all mixed in with your _soul?”_

“Yes?”

Gabriel grinned, his nose crinkling. “Ew. That's so _fucked up_ ,” Gabe giggled. “Cassie’s got some kinks.”

“Um?”

Gabe pulled up Dean’s shirt in one swoop, then burst out laughing. “Holy _shit_ , that's intimate.”

Dean felt his ears redden. “It was an accident.”

“You two _accidentally_ got tangled up on a _spiritual_ level? Yeah right!”

“Oh c’mon, I _died_ and found him being tortured in Heaven! He was just… desperate to get out. Grabbed a bit tight. It's okay.”

Gabe stopped laughing. “Wait, he was being tortured?”

“Yeah it… fucked him up pretty bad. He was getting better and we got too close and he… He left. And I haven't seen him since.”

 _“Oi babalon aishh,”_ Gabriel muttered under his breath before glancing back at Dean. “What do you want me for?”

“I was hoping you could untangle us.”

_“Ewwwwww.”_

“Gabriel, _please._ I… I really care about him, okay? And I want him back.”

“I don't know if I can. And either way, I'd need both of you here.”

“Can't you just… call him or something?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “He usually finds me every time he escapes to Earth, and he never remembers the other times. He'll be by eventually.”

Dean furrowed his brow. “What do you mean he doesn't remember?”

Gabriel threw his hands up. “I don't know! Every time he finds me, he doesn't remember ever being down here with me before. Though I guess if that bitch has been torturing him-”

“But he told me he's rebelled before...”

“Look kid, maybe you saved him. Speaking of, how did you even _get_ to the stupid office spaces up top?” Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “What's your last name, Dean?”

“Um, Heeren?”

Gabriel squinted at him for a moment longer before nodding. “Okay. I can't even get half a look into your mind. Thought you may’ve been someone else.”

Dean sighed, leaning back against the brick wall. “So you'll find him?”

“Like I said, he’ll turn up here eventually. He always does.”

“Is that why you won't leave?”

Gabriel’s shoulders hunched defensively. “This was always our favorite town to watch together when he was a kid. I'll feel it when he gets here.”

“Well actually… um…”

Gabe raised an eyebrow.

“We uh, warded him. You wouldn't be able to sense him.”

“So he could already be in town.”

“Yeah…”

Gabe sighed. “Look. Why don't you spend the night at my place and we can look for him in the morning.”

“Okay but um…”

Gabe snorted. “Believe me, I won't be making a move on you. My _brother_ is inside you.”

Dean averted his eyes and mumbled, “Don't say it like _that.”_

“Okay. You two are intertwined?”

“Don’t-”

“Tangled up.”

“Gabrie-”

“Basically having constant soul sex.”

Dean laughed, pushing off the wall. “Dick fit you better.”

“Eh,” Gabe responded, walking towards his car. “Vagina fits me pretty well, too.”


	63. Chapter 63

“Why does all your shit look like the shit Jess used to get for me?”

“This is fashion!” Gabe replied, throwing brightly-colored button-down at Dean.

Dean held it out at arm’s length. “Yeah. Maybe in the _80s._ I know you're old but _geez!”_

Gabriel huffed in indignation. “Hon, I've got more style in my pinky finger than you do in your whole body.”

Dean tossed the shirt back. “Oh yeah. Don't get me wrong; I'm a mess. But still. At least plaid and jeans _match.”_

“ _Fine._ Wear your bloody-ass shirt. Thought you'd wanna look as good as possible when you saw your little soulmate again.”

Dean frowned. “We’re not-... Just, don't you have anything even _half_ normal?”

“Nope!”

Dean raised an eyebrow at the nice suit Gabriel had on.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Okay except for _this one,_ but it's for Kali.”

“Kali?”

Gabriel began stripping, and Dean busied himself looking through some books. “Yeah, Kali. We have this, like, on and off again thing. Currently off. Gonna be on soon, if I'm wearing this bad boy.”

Dean couldn't help his smirk. “I may be a bad boy, but I doubt I'll make her wanna get back with you.”

There was a beat, then Gabriel laughed loudly. “ _Hoo boy_ ,” he giggled. “Shame you're already spoken for. For what it's worth, you have my blessing.”

Dean rolled his eyes, smiling. “Yeah yeah. Toss me some decent clothes, Casanova.”

\---

He shouldn't be this nervous.

He had called Babs and Sam, told them he’d be gone for a while longer than anticipated. He didn't give many details, though. He didn't know what was going to happen, so he didn't want to get their hopes up. And he _especially_ didn't want to hear Sam’s lecture about his need to _"_ fucking help” everybody.

But Cas was different.

...right?

Sure, he was harsh at the beginning but who wouldn't be? After all he had been through, it was amazing he could even hold a conversation.

Dean felt a kick at his leg and looked up from the same page he had been trying to read for an hour now.

“Dude,” Gabriel said, ass off his own chair so he could kick Dean again lightly.

Dean kicked Gabe’s leg back. “What?”

“You haven't turned the page in forever.”

Dean huffed and closed his book.

“Aw, hell. Are we about to talk about our feelings?”

“Yep.”

Gabe groaned and sunk back in his chair. “Fine. Lay it on me, padre.”

“My dad was a really awful person.”

“Hey, mine, too!”

“So I've heard, and we are definitely gonna talk about him. But right now, I'm worried about Cas. Because Sam thinks-”

“Sam?”

“Sorry, my brother. He thinks that-”

“Your name is Dean and you have a brother named Sam?”

“Yes shh, keep up. See, I always-”

“What's _his_ last name?”

“Singer! Gosh, you're a terrible listener.”

Gabriel wiped the confused look off his face and rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Keep going. Terrible father 'n’ shit.”

“Yeah. So I never really… I never faulted him for anything, and I just kind of accepted whatever he threw my way. And see, Sam is worried I'm doing the same thing with Cas.”

“Cas is such a sweetheart, though! Dude loves to watch flowers bloom and keep bees and all sorts of weird stuff!”

Dean tilted his head to the side.

“And he does _that_ a lot!”

“I… Gabe, Cas was kind of a _jerk_ when he first found me. He literally slapped me across the face.”

“Nuh-uh. No way. That's not my Cassie.”

“He's a fucking _James Dean._ Leather jackets and cigarettes and deep eyes and-...” Dean trailed off, face reddening.

Gabe let out a strangled sound. “You're telling me they _fucked up_ my _Cassie?!”_ Gabriel sighed, sinking further into his chair. “Dammit. Whatever, he’ll get back to normal soon. Trust me, he cares too much about everything for his own good.”

“Yeah, he said that if he didn't get close to anything, he couldn't get hurt.”

Gabriel hid his face in his hands. “My _baby brother-..._ Ugh. Listen. Did Cassie apologize to you?”

“Yeah, he did.”

“Did your dad ever do that?”

“He-... No. He didn't.”

Gabriel pointed at Dean. “There ya go. That's the difference. Castiel is trying to do better, and your father never did.”

Dean sat back, mulling it over in his head. “Is that enough to make a difference, though?”

“If he's trying? Oh, love… That makes all the difference in the world.”

\---

“Tell me about God,” Dean muttered, turning over a tarot card for Gabriel. _The Hierophant._

“Dick.”

“No, not you. God,” Dean teased.

“ _Complete_ dick.”

Dean sighed, flipping absently through the cards. “C’mon, Gabe. You need to talk about this with someone, and I'm here for you.”

“You don't even know me!”

Dean turned over the next card. _The High Priestess._ “I'm learning.”

Gabriel clicked his tongue. “Yeah? What are the cards telling you, O great Deanie-Baby?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You came from a high place of tradition. Rules, societal influence. You constantly looked for a way out, though, until you finally took it. Ever since then, you've been hiding. Inactive. Lost within yourself. And-” Dean turned over the final card. _Seven of cups._ He furrowed his brow. “-Your future is unclear.”

“Oh, come on! You got the past and present right! Surely you can figure out the future.”

Dean frowned at Gabe and laid down three more cards under the last one. “You've got some options.”

“Yeah? What are they?”

“Death, the Devil, or Judgment.”

“... Tarot cards are fucking stupid anyways.”

Dean grinned a bit. “Okay but what if I pulled for God? And then you can tell me about him.”

In one sweep, Gabe gathered up all the cards. “Oh babe, let _me_ have the honors!” Gabe laid down the first card, “Ah, The Asshole!”

“That's not a-”

Second card. “And - woah! The Prick! Who woulda thunk it?!”

“Where the hell are you-”

“And last but not least-”

Dean grabbed the next card and flipped it over himself. “You miss him,” Dean announced, revealing the _Three of Swords._

“Hey, I thought we agreed that your readings suck.”

Dean shrugged. “You're right. It's not like I've been spending time with a witch in a library or anything.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes and gathered up the cards, shuffling them quickly. “He abandoned us as children. We didn't know what we were doing. We were… We were _kids._ We were looking for our father to show us what to do. To teach us. To _love_ us. And he just… He left. Didn't tell anyone where he was going or when he’d be back. And we were running in circles and _screaming_ but it didn't matter. He was gone. And he _stayed_ gone. What kind of… We didn't deserve that. We were just…” Gabriel sighed. “We were just kids.”

Dean moved to sit beside Gabriel, leaning against him.

Gabriel stared at the stack of cards on the table. “And things got so bad. No one knew what to do. We were cold, and tired, and _hungry_ and all these things angels shouldn't be. And my baby brothers and sisters were looking up to _me,_ to me and the other three. We were just toddlers in charge of babies. We didn't… We didn't know what we were doing.”

Gabriel’s hands were in Dean’s, and they were shaking.

“And then Lucifer ran away because things were _bad_ and the humans were _bad_ and he thought Dad was coming back. He said that Dad would be back and that Dad would fix everything and get rid of the humans that _didn't even care._ I think… I think he figured it out when he left. I think we all did. Dad was never coming back.”

Dean wrapped an arm around Gabriel, bringing him in tight. The Three of Swords was still being crushed in Gabriel’s hand.

“Michael was in charge, and Raphael, and me. And I didn't know what to do because _none_ of us knew and I just- I just-...”

“You just ran,” Dean said softly.

“I just ran.”

“And you still miss him.”

Gabriel’s voice was hitching, and it came out watery, “My brothers are about to fight to the death. My family - my own fucking _family_ is going to kill each other. I just-...” Gabriel hiccupped and whispered, “I just want my dad.”

Dean wrapped his arms fully around Gabriel, pulling him close as Gabriel dropped the card, bringing his hands to cover his face. His knees drew up, his muscles tensed, and suddenly he was crying.

“This isn't _fair!”_ Gabriel yelled, a window shattering. “Everything! We did _everything_ for him and he _abandoned_ us! Like trash! Like _goddamn fucking_ **_trash!”_ **

A soothing hand ran through his hair.

“Was that _it?!_ Were we just _trash,_  just **_mistakes_** _?_ Were we not good enough? Was **_I_ ** _not good enough?!_ I _loved_ him! I followed him! I would have gone _with_ him if he'd so much as fucking asked! If he'd so much as fucking _said goodbye!_ He didn't even say-... He didn't care enough to say-...”

Gabriel was shivering. Dean held him tighter.

“I just… I just wanted to say goodbye.”

Dean pressed his lips against Gabriel’s temple.

“And _you,”_ Gabriel said, quivering, his steam lost. “I kept this _shit_ in for _millennia_ and here you just waltz in and unlock Pandora's whole goddamn box!”

Dean gave him a small smile. “That's the only way you find the hope at the bottom.”

Gabriel wiped his eyes with one hand, flipping Dean off with the other. “Fuck you.”

“Cas might be a little upset.”

Gabriel finally smiled, blinking away the tears. “You’re not half bad, Heeren.”

Dean gently rubbed Gabe’s back. “Same to you, Gabe. I'm always here, okay? If anyone could relate to having a shit father, it's me. Us forced orphans, we’ve gotta stick together.”

Gabriel let out a breath, resting his forehead against Dean’s shoulder. “Forced orphans.”

“Take as long as you need, okay?”

Gabe nodded, taking a few minutes to just breathe. After a while, he whispered, “I'm glad you're not the Winchester kid.”

Dean felt the blood leave his face. “Wh-... Why?”

“That kid’s gotta die.”


	64. Chapter 64

“Will you let me speak now?” Dean asked.

“Mmf mm mmmffff mf.”

“Okay, babe.” Dean rolled his eyes fondly, resting his head on Gabriel’s. Gabe had spent a solid thirty minutes against Dean’s shoulder, not saying anything further. Of course, Dean understood that. Sometimes you don't need advice. You just need someone to listen.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

Gabe nodded weakly.

A few more minutes passed by before he asked quietly, “Can we play Candyland?”

Dean smiled to himself. “Of course. Where is it?”

Gabriel waved a hand, and the game appeared. He finally raised his head, eyes red-rimmed, and set up the board.

Dean looked at it. “Um, I'm not sure that's-”

“I have my own rules.”

“Oh. Okay.” Dean couldn't help a small smile. It was like he was playing board games with his baby brother again.

Gabriel set up the board quietly before rolling a D20.

Dean snickered. “How lame can ya get, Gabe-Babe?”

“Oh, way lamer. Just wait.”

They were four turns in, Gabriel explaining to Dean that _yes_ there was a free parking space in Candyland and _no_ he didn't just tape it on, when a microwave went off.

Gabriel stilled and cursed under his breath. “Someone's here.”

Oh. Not a microwave.

“Want me to go see who it is?” Dean asked.

“Just wait a moment. They may leave. They usually do.”

A different alarm sounded.

“Aaaaaand they're inside. Great. Dean-o, stick with me.” Gabriel got up quickly. “Gotta be a human with all my traps but… yeah. Stick with me.”

Before they could move, the door swung open.

“Castiel,” Dean breathed.

Cas walked towards him hurriedly, stopping just short of him. “Dean-” He turned to Gabriel. “Gabriel.”

There was a blade against Castiel’s neck before Dean could react. “Who are you?” Gabriel asked, eyes venomous.

“Gabe! This is-”

“Jimmy Novak. Castiel is in danger.”

\---

Jimmy was sitting with a blanket around his shoulders, and Dean was tending to his wounds.

“It was just… wrong place, wrong time, ya know?” Jimmy said, wincing slightly as Dean cleaned out a gash in his leg. “Zachariah was there and there was this big fight. Like, Castiel killed a few angels, but then _Michael_ came along and Cas ejected himself from me and _poof,_ I woke up alone in a barn.”

“So lemme get this straight,” Dean said, bandaging the wound, “You're a vessel? And Cas has just been riding you around?”

“I mean… yes. I gave my consent, though.”

Dean turned to Gabriel. “And… you? You're in a… vessel?”

“Kinda sorta. I found an empty one and did some face-swapping. It's just me in here.”

Dean turned back to Cas-... Jimmy. “But it was both of you?”

“Yes.” Jimmy averted his gaze. “I um, I have a wife and a daughter.”

Dean felt bile rise up in his throat. He couldn't feel his face. “A-a-a wife… and a-a… oh… oh my God I'm… I'm _so sorry!”_

“It's okay, I-”

“No! It's not ok-... We were… You and I and… oh my-”

“ _Dean,”_ Jimmy said forcibly, meeting Dean’s eyes. “It's really okay. I was tuned out for… that.”

Dean fell back on his ass, and Gabriel pulled him back towards the chair until he was nestled between Gabriel’s shins. He felt a hand card through his hair, and a voice whisper in his ear, “Let me handle this, love.”

Dean hid his face in his hands.

“First thing’s first,” Gabriel said to Jimmy, “we’ve gotta ward you against the angels.”

“Oh, I've got this tattoo,” Jimmy said, the fabric of his shirt shuffling.

“That’ll do it. What would you like to do next?”

“I… I would like to go home now.”

“Castiel will not be able to return to earth.”

“He can find someone else.”

“Okay. Hey, it's okay. You've been through a lot. We’ll get you home, Mr. Novak.”

“Thank you. Is it okay if I sleep somewhere?”

“Sure. Upstairs, first door on the left.”

“Thank you.”

Dean heard the steps retreat, softer and less even than Castiel’s. Gabriel slid out of his chair, wrapping himself around Dean’s hunched form. “Dean-”

“I almost _raped_ him,” Dean whispered, shaking.

Gabe pressed a kiss to the back of Dean’s neck. “I don't know how to help with this, Dean. I want to. Tell me how to help you.”

Dean shook his head and turned around, burying his face in Gabriel’s chest. “Wh-what have I _done?”_

Gabriel held him close. “You didn't know.”

“That doesn't excuse it! Oh God… Gabriel… Gabriel, _please._ ”

“Please what?”

Dean shook his head. “Please please please please-” Tears fell down, and Dean didn't know what he was asking for.

“Tell me what you want, Dean.”

“I… I wanna go home.”

“Okay. What about Castiel?”

Dean made a desperate sound, clutching Gabriel’s shirt tighter. “ _I_ _don't know!_ I need to help - I can't keep helping - I don't know I don't -”

And suddenly, for the first time in a long time, it was hard to breathe.

Dean was shaking and crying and it felt like the _entire world_ was falling around him and he couldn’t do it he couldn't-

For the first time, he was screaming.

“You know what my favorite thing about this place is, Dean-o? It's the ceilings. Have you ever seen ceilings so high?”

Dean tried to catch his breath, and Gabriel shouldered him gently.

“Dean, I asked if you'd ever seen ceilings so high.”

Dean looked up, tears falling freely. He shook his head, whimpering.

“What about the art? Do you like the art?”

Nod.

“The chairs?”

“Th-th-... They're nice-nice.”

“What about my chandelier? All my mirrors?”

Dean swallowed harshly and nodded.

“Sometimes it gets kinda loud in here, though. I hear all sorts of things.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Mhm. Can’t you hear it all?”

Dean shuddered, squeezing his eyes tight. “I c-c-can hear - I can hear the air con-conditioner… the- the radi-... The radio the… the- the radio the radio the-”

“Hey, it's okay. I can hear all that, too. And you know what else? I _just_ got my carpet fluffed.”

“That's not-not a real th-thing…”

“Sure it is! Just feel it!”

Dean struggled to let go of Gabriel with one hand, burying it in the carpet. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Gabriel’s shoulder. “You-your shirt is s-so-soft.”

Gabriel gently ran his thumb across Dean’s cheek, sweeping away some tears.

“Your hands a-are rough.”

“What do I smell like?” Gabriel whispered.

“For-foreign wood and caramel.”

“Huh. What a coincidence.”

Dean opened his eyes to see Gabriel holding a caramel beneath them.

Dean took the proffered candy, wiping his eyes pitifully.

“Are you better now?” Gabriel asked gently.

Dean nodded, closing his eyes again. “This is what you tasted like,” Dean whispered.

He never saw the soft blush that crept along Gabriel’s cheeks. “Well, in that case, _I’d_ kiss me.”

Dean smiled a little, and Gabriel let out the breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

“Tell ya what, Dean-o. We can stay here as long as you want. And when you're tired, you can go sleep and I'll keep watch for you. Tomorrow, I'll get Jimmy home, and then you and I will go back to Stanford. We have a better chance at rescuing Cas if we have more help. Sound okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Gabriel hesitated, then pressed a kiss to Dean’s cheek. “I hate to see you upset.”

Dean opened his eyes, smirking slightly. “What a coincidence! I hate to be upset.”

Gabriel smiled back at him widely, tightening his hold. “Yeah yeah, you dork. You just want me to keep holding you.”

“You're pretty warm. And you smell nice.”

Gabriel hid his blush in a laugh. “Wish I could say the same for you! When's the last time you took a shower?”

“Two nights ago, I think.”

Gabe rolled his eyes. “I've got a really nice bath upstairs with like. Petals 'n' shit to put in it. Go use it. When you're ready, of course.”

Dean nodded and slowly freed himself of Gabriel’s embrace. “Thanks.”

Their eyes met, and Dean bit his bottom lip.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You're gonna ask me to join you, aren't you?”

“No. I… I don't really _know_ how to use a 'petal bath’.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Do you ever think of anything other than sex?” Gabe teased, already standing and holding out a hand to help Dean up.

“I mean, I'm twenty-five. That's a pretty general thing for me,” Dean snarked back, accepting the help up.

Gabriel grinned at him, lacing their fingers together and leading Dean up the stairs. “Let's see. Are you more of a rose or lavender type guy?”

“I'd say I'm more lilies.”

Gabriel was glad that Dean was behind him, so he wouldn't see the deep red his face had become. “You're a downright terrible flirt, Dean Heeren.”

“Hey, Gabriel?”

“Mhm?”

“Can I tell you something?”

Gabe opened a door, leading them into a room with an incredibly large tub. More like a pool. “Always.”

“It's serious. I think. You seem to think it is.”

Gabriel turned back around, the water steaming and filling up the tub without so much as a snap from him. “Alright then, Deanie-Baby. Lay it on me.”

Dean fidgeted. “You can't get mad.”

Gabriel raised up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“Heeren wasn't _exactly_ my given last name.”

The sly smirk froze on Gabriel’s face.

Dean took in the silence, winced, and forced out, “It was Winchester. My name was Dean Winchester.”

The pool froze over.


	65. Chapter 65

Gabriel was silently throwing petals into the pool. It would occasionally freeze back over again, and Gabe would curse and close his eyes until it thawed and began steaming once more.

“Gabe?” Dean said hesitantly.

Gabriel held up a hand. “I'm not mad. But please, give me a few minutes. You are _literally_ the weapon Michael wants to use to kill Lucifer. Wh- How are you even _here?_ This isn't in the story at all!”

Dean opened his mouth to answer, but was silenced by a look from Gabriel.

“No, shush. Don't talk yet. You're twenty-five? And you've already been to Heaven. You weren't destined to die for… fuck. Five more years. And _that_ was only a back-up in case your _dad_ didn't do as planned.”

The wince that jolted through Dean must've registered in Gabriel’s mind, because he sighed and stuck his bare feet in the pool. “But you seem to have disowned your father, which was also never in the cards. What exactly are you doing? Are you _trying_ to get the Powers That Be all terrified and trigger-happy?”

“I'm just… I'm just doing what I think I should.”

“I… can respect that.” Gabriel stirred the slightly pink water with his foot. “You weren't supposed to stumble into _me_ until after I'd taken care of that slutty professor, too. But I _knew_ something was weird about you.” Gabe suddenly turned to face Dean. “How did you die?”

“... John killed me. He um, kidnapped me and drunk drove us straight into a semi.”

Dean walked over to Gabriel and rolled his pant legs up before sitting down beside him. He rested his legs in the warm water.

“Is he dead, too?” Gabe asked.

“Nah. Barely a scratch.”

Dean’s foot brushed Gabriel’s in their movements, and Gabriel furrowed his brow. “John Winchester was supposed to be a righteous man.”

“He was, once.”

Gabriel snorted. “Fucking literary parallels.”

Dean laughed aloud. “God, right? It's ridiculous. My dad and your dad should make a team.”

“Call it 'Bad Dads R Us’ or something.”

Dean shouldered Gabriel. “Their mascot could be Darth Vader.”

“And instead of good food they just bring beer and complain about their kids!”

Dean’s grin spread to Gabe’s face, and before long they were both laughing, laid back on the warm tile.

Gabe turned to look at him, still giggling slightly. “Anything else you wanna share while we’re here?”

Dean grinned back. “Ah, fuck. Um, I was blind for eight months. I make hella good mac n cheese. I raised Sammy. I have a nephew. I love Vonnegut. I'm almost to my bachelor's. My favorite movie is _Gone With The Wind._ I cry every time I read _Wuthering Heights_.” He laughed breathlessly. “I want to know more about you.”

Gabriel’s fingers danced across Dean’s. “I love sweets. My favorite candy is caramel. Mannerism was my favorite art period. My favorite movie is _The Secret Life of Walter Mitty._ I love rain storms. I love your eyes.”

Dean curled his fingers around Gabriel’s.

Gabe searched those green depths. “I think they're the prettiest things I've ever seen. I think our date was too short. I've wanted to kiss you again all night. I hate that you're spoken for.”

Dean laughed. “The only person who can speak for me is me.”

“And I hate that you're in love with my brother.”

The smile finally slipped off Dean’s face. “I don't know what I am.” He caught Gabe’s hand as it began to pull away. “But I know you make me smile. And I know you’re easy to talk to. I know you already know me better than Castiel. And I… I know that you calm me down. And you understand me. And I-...”

Amber stared into green.

“And I would like another date.”

Gabriel’s lips quirked in amusement. “Deanie-Baby, are you asking me out?”

“Yes. Today and every day until we know for sure. Go out with me.”

The sincerity in Dean’s eyes sent a shiver through Gabriel. “Okay.”

Dean smiled, gently tucking a strand of hair behind Gabriel’s ear with his free hand. “Okay.”


	66. Chapter 66

It was a ridiculous bathtub war.

Gabriel had pushed Dean in fully clothed and gotten dragged in himself, fake kicking and screaming the whole way. Dean dove under and used the pink haze of the water as camouflage. Gabriel yelped as he was briefly pulled under, shoving aside Dean’s grin as they surfaced.

God, it was like they were both young again.

Dean finally shoved Gabriel out of both the pool and the bathroom, claiming that he needed to take a _real_ bath. Gabriel offered to help, Dean grinned and rolled his eyes, and before he knew it, Gabriel was cleaning up a guest bedroom for him.

Gabriel tried to reign in his thoughts as he fluffed a pillow.

Dean was a heavenly weapon.

Dean had a destiny.

Dean was all mixed in with Cas.

But...

Dean was kind.

Dean was funny.

Dean was beautiful.

Gabriel growled at himself as he fluffed another pillow. Why the fuck was he _manually_ fluffing the pillows?

He snapped his fingers and the pillows fluffed themselves.

Dean tasted like apples.

Gabriel cursed and pummeled in a pillow just to re-fluff it himself.

He couldn't.

He really, _really_ shouldn't.

Gabriel turned around to see Dean in borrowed pajama pants, smelling like Heaven and wearing a grin that spelled Hell.

Dean was soft.

Dean was freckled.

Dean didn't want to sleep alone.

Well.

Fuck it all.

Neither did Gabriel.

\---

Dean woke up - _still dressed, thank God -_ in an unfamiliar bed, in unfamiliar arms. He scooted around until he met the sleepy smile of Gabriel.

“Heya, Dean-o.”

“Thought angels didn't have to sleep.”

“Angels are boring. Sleep is amazing.”

Dean smiled softly. “Thank you for staying here with me.”

Gabriel shrugged, pushing his cold nose against Dean’s cheek. “Hey, I'm always down for cuddles.”

Dean’s eyes trailed off to the side, his expression growing sad. Gabriel tugged gently on his face until they were staring each other in the eyes.

“Hey, Dean, listen to me. I already took Jimmy home. He's safe.”

Dean let out a breath. “Thank you.”

“We can head back to Stanford whenever you're ready.”

Dean rested his forehead against Gabriel’s, closing his eyes. “Can we go by Babs’ instead? I could really use some pancakes.”

“I love pancakes!”

Dean opened his eyes, the corners crinkling as he smiled. “You haven't _actually_ had pancakes before. Not until you've had hers.”

“Ooooooo baby, _yes._ Talk breakfast to me.”

Dean rubbed his nose against Gabe’s. “Clothes then home. Okay?”

“Whatever you say, Green Dean.”

\---

Barbara looked back and forth between the two of them, before finally sighing.

“Dean, I love you. But one of these days, I'm really hoping you’ll _warn_ me before you bring a mythological being into my house.”

Gabriel grinned wide at her. “I'm Gabriel.”

Babs seemed unfazed. “Of course you are. How many pancakes do you want?”

Gabriel shrugged. “However many is convenient. I have a great syrup recipe, actually, if you want to try it.”

Babs looked down at her tea and sighed. “Bobby,” she called out, “Can you make me some coffee, too?”

\---

Dean wasn't staring. He also wasn't smiling, or blushing, or completely captivated by the scene before him.

Because Gabriel _definitely_ wasn't flipping pancakes with the pan, and Babs _definitely_ wasn't laughing as she stirred the syrup, and Bobby _definitely_ wasn't smiling as he sipped on his coffee.

Gabriel caught Dean’s eye, winked, and flipped a pancake behind his back. Dean's shoulders shook with barely restrained laughter.

“Wait, wait. Okay. I call this one, Over The Rainbow,” Gabe announced, flipping a pancake over Dean.

It took Dean a second, but then he was laughing and trying to snatch the saucer from Gabe. Gabriel turned back to the oven, hiding his smirk. “Shouldn't you be calling your brother or something?”

Babs snuck a pancake off the plate and handed it to Dean as he strode by. He plopped onto the couch in the living room, pulling out his cell and dialing a familiar number.

Sam answered on the third ring. “Dean?”

“Heya, Sammy. How's family life?”

“Ugh. Billy _literally_ just went to sleep. How's the paper?”

“I… I kinda brought my interview home with me.”

“...Really? What about-... Nevermind. Are you at Babs’?”

“Yep! And you should be, too. Bring Jess and Billy and we can all have a big party!”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, right. What's wrong?”

“You're… not gonna be happy.”

“Let me guess. It has to do with Castiel.”

“...Yes…”

Sam sighed. “And I can't talk you out of it?”

“You… might be able to. But still, please, come over. At least meet Gabriel.”

“Gabriel?”

“My… um… friend?”

“... Dean I swear to God if this is the fucking archangel Gabriel-”

“HAHA I LOVE YOU TOO SAM! BYE!” Dean hung up quickly, throwing his phone to the other end of the couch. He stared for a moment before sighing and leaning back, staring at the record player instead. After a moment, slender hands laid a record on the turntable.

“Sam coming over?” Gabriel asked, picking up the handle and starting the record.

Dean shrugged. “He's weird about me dating people.”

Gabriel gave him a small smile. “I can see why. You said you get attached easily, don't you? He just wants to protect you.”

Doo-Wop music started.

“I know,” Dean mumbled. “He has every right.”

“So you're not upset?”

Dean regarded Gabe for a moment, then shrugged. “Nah. He's valid.”

 _Life could be a dream_ _  
_ _Life could be a dream_  
_Boom ba-doh, ba-doo ba-doodle-ay_

_Sh-boom_

Dean laughed. “What the hell is this?”

“Um, The Chords? Greatest Doo-Wop group to ever Doo the Wop?”

“Is this what you're into?”

Gabriel lifted Dean’s legs, sat down, and laid them back onto his lap. “I'm into _you,_ babe. I just happen to like this music.”

Dean raised an amused eyebrow at him.

“Okay so… _maybe_ I'm into Doo-Wop.” Gabriel stuck his tongue out at Dean’s chuckles. “Alright then, big shot. What kind of music are _you_ into?”

Dean held up a single finger, leaning his head back and listening to the rest of Gabriel’s song. The crackling signaled the end, and Dean smirked at Gabe. “I liked that. Now, my turn.” He got up to change the record quickly and laid back down, opting to put his head in Gabriel’s lap this time.

Gabriel’s lips quirked in amusement as Dean mouthed the words enthusiastically.

'Dirty, rotten, stinking, filthy-’

And then Dean _sang_ the rest, pointing up at Gabriel.

“ _He’s my cherry pie! Cool drink of water, such a sweet surprise! Look so good, make a grown man cry! Sweet cherry piiiiiiie!”_

Gabriel laughed out loud, leaning his head back and simply enjoying the moment. “Do I make you cry, sugar lips?”

“Yep. Didn't even get me a pancake. What kind of boyfriend are you?”

Gabriel glanced down at Dean. “I _did_ get you a pancake. Two, actually. Right there on the table.”

Dean’s shy smile couldn't hide his blush. “No comment on that other bit?”

Gabriel’s grin was downright evil as he leaned down until his lips ghosted against Dean’s. “Eat my pancakes, then we’ll talk.”

Dean matched his grin. “Is that a euphemism?”

Gabriel winked and sat back up, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “I figure the first thing we need to try to do is summon Castiel. That might tear him from his captors.” Gabriel forced Dean’s twitch to the back of his mind. “And if that doesn't work… Well, I know I can't stop or control you, so I won't bother trying. But I ask that you don't accompany me to Heaven.”

Dean stared up at Gabriel, pancake halfway to his lips. “Isn't it a bad idea for you to go to Heaven? Aren't you in hiding?”

Gabriel sighed. “Unfortunately, Cassie always was my favorite. If I had known what they were doing to him….” Gabriel shook his head. “Doesn't matter. I need to save him. But we’ll exhaust every other option first.”

Dean nodded to himself, chewing thoughtfully on the pancake. It took a second for the flavor to register, but then he closed his eyes and groaned. “And here I was, thinking Mom’s pancakes couldn't get any better.”

“Be careful what sounds you make in my lap,” Gabriel teased, grinning. “And I _told_ you I had a great syrup recipe!”

“I would _literally_ just sit here and drink your syrup all day.”

Gabriel looked down, saw Dean’s shit-eating grin, and burst out laughing. “You little _shit!_ You did that on purpose!”

Dean shrugged, innocently eating another bite.

“I'm gonna have my hands full with you, aren't I?”

Dean winked.

“What's it gonna take for you to _not_ distract me while I'm looking for a way to save Castiel?”

Dean grinned around his fork. “I'm twenty-five. This comes with the package.”

Gabriel looked up in mock deep thought before gently pressing his fingers to Dean’s sides. “What if I just tickle you?”

“Pfft. You can try. I'm not ticklish.”

“Oh, didn't I tell you? _Aside_ from being an archangel, I've also been worshipped as a pagan god. So, ya know. _Ticklish_ is definitely something I could make you.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn't.”

Gabriel’s eyes twinkled. “How confident are you in that?”

Dean regarded him suspiciously. “Pretty confident.”

“...Dammit. I was hoping you wouldn't call me on that.” Gabriel removed his hands, leaning back again. “Get up! I've got research to do.”

“Or what? You'll _tickle_ me?”

Gabriel regarded Dean, slowly grinning. “Ya know what? I don't think I was the only one bluffing.”

The smirk slid off Dean’s face.


	67. Chapter 67

“Nonono- Gabe- WAIT-”

Sam and Jess exchanged a glance. Jess handed Billy off to Bobby before they both _ran_ into the living room, weapons at the ready-

Gabriel was tickling Dean with one hand, fake-yawning with the other, as Dean laughed so hard tears streamed out of his eyes.

Sam blinked.

“Um…” Sam said.

Gabriel finally saw the two of them and gave them a side smile, releasing Dean.

Dean gasped in a breath, still giggling. “ _Sammy,”_ he pleaded, “This man is  _evil!”_

Sam looked back and forth between them. “I thought you weren't ticklish?”

Gabriel grinned down at Dean. “You told your  _own brother_ that you weren't ticklish? You're absolutely terrible!” Gabe absently traced his fingers along Dean’s sides.

Dean bit back his laughter. “Noooooo no no, this isn't fair! He’d abuse the power!”

Sam shrugged. “I mean. You're damn right I would.”

Gabriel put his hands behind his head, letting Dean roll onto the floor, out of breath. Dean took a few breaths and finally flipped Gabriel off. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. That's why I'm here.” Gabe stood up and walked over to Sam and Jess, sticking out a hand. “I'm Gabriel!”

Sam raised an eyebrow coldly. “Okay.” He turned on his heel and walked back towards the kitchen, ignoring the outstretched hand.

“Sam-” Dean started.

Gabe grabbed Sam’s shoulder and turned him around. “I'm gonna make a good impression. I know you've got issues. So does he. But he's become a close friend and I'll be _damned_ if I don't play nice with his brother.” He looked at Sam’s face and narrowed his eyes. “I'm not gonna  _hurt_ that precious cinnamon bun. He's had too much of that.”

Sam met his gaze levelly, straightening up to his full height, an entire three inches taller than Gabriel. “Damn right he has. And you're not-”

“Good enough for him. Yes, I'm aware. But the only person that can speak for him is him. And, frankly, you're not him.”

Their gazes grew darker and darker until finally Sam’s lips quirked up. “You've got spunk, I'll give you that.”

Gabriel smirked back. “Seems like he's in good hands with you.”

Sam finally grinned, and all the tension in the room faded away. Jess smiled at Gabe and pulled him in for a hug, saying, “C’mon, Gabriel. In this family, we  _hug.”_

\---

Sam steered Gabriel away, an arm thrown around his shoulder, saying something like, “I want to hear _every little detail_ about you. Let's talk outside.”

Jess linked her arm through Dean’s and led him back into the kitchen, both chatting amicably about life and the weather and _oh my gosh Billy is already starting to coo, maybe he’ll talk soon!_

By the time Sam and Gabriel got back inside, Dean was making airplane noises as he fed Billy, who was giving Dean that heart-melting gummy smile.

Gabriel leaned on the back of Dean’s chair. “Huh. You're good with kids.”

“Pfft. Should be. I raised Sammy.”

“Guess we’re both brother-dads. Hm. Hey, I'm about to go try and fix our problem. You can stay here or come with me or whatever. Just letting ya know.” Gabriel mussed up Dean’s hair and walked over to one of the bookshelves Bobby had taken over.

Sam and Jess exchanged a glance before Jess asked gently, “Dean?”

Dean hunched his shoulders and fed Billy another spoonful.

They each took a seat on either side of Dean. “Dean,” Jess repeated.

“What.”

“Do you want to talk about whatever happened?”

“Why do you assume something happened?” Dean fed Billy the last of the food and sighed. “Gotta go get some more-”

Sam put a hand on his arm. “You can spoil our kid later. Tell us what's wrong.”

Dean frowned, picking up Billy and holding him in his lap. “I don't know.”

Sam and Jess waited patiently.

“I feel like I have to help. But… maybe I don't. Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe this isn't… Maybe this isn't my problem.”

Sam furrowed his brow. “What about Cas?”

Sam didn't miss Dean’s flinch.

“What about him?”

“I mean, I'm not complaining but… you were all but singing his praises a week ago. Now you're not even sure if you're going to help him.”

All of Dean’s muscles went tense and he put his head down, kissing Billy’s forehead. Billy cooed at him.

“Dean,” Jess said softly, placing a hand on Dean’s cheek.

“Please don't touch me,” he whispered, pulling Billy closer.

Sam and Jess both released Dean.

“Dean,” Sam said. “Tell us what happened.”

“Want me to tell them?” Gabriel said from behind them, leaning against the door frame.

Dean nodded. “I'll go burp the baby,” he mumbled, getting up before anyone could say anything else.

Gabriel sighed and sat down in the chair Dean had just vacated, waiting until Dean was out of earshot.

“First thing first. I'm not gonna defend Cas, but you gotta know he doesn't really understand these things. It's not an excuse but… yeah.”

“Oh no,” Jess said. “Did Cas pull a one night stand?”

Gabriel winced. “Not exactly. Have you two learned about vessels yet?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You mean when an angel uses a person as a meat puppet?”

Gabriel averted his eyes, pointing at Sam. “Yeah… that. So, Cassie's got one of those. And his is still ah, alive and kicking in there.”

“So… Dean’s upset because Cas has a vessel?”

“He's upset that Cas didn't tell him and they almost did the do.”

Jess furrowed her brow. “But-”

“Dean feels like he almost raped the guy,” Gabriel rushed out. “And I don't think he's figured it out yet, but somewhere inside Dean was almost raped too, because he never gave his consent to have sex with  _two_ guys and I'll be honest, I don't know how to fix this. I don't know if I c _an._ Okay? Dean's really fucked up over this and if you two have any idea how to fix it  _please tell me."_

“Why did… I mean, he's almost been raped before… Why this time?” Jess asked softly.

Sam groaned, running his hands over his face. “It's because it was  _Castiel._ He trusted that motherfucker with his  _life._ Wait.” Sam glared daggers at Gabriel. “Don't you-”

Gabe held his hands up. “Just me in here. No one else.”

Dean cleared his throat.

All three looked up, eyes wide.

“Let's find him,” Dean mumbled, handing Billy back to Jessica.

Sam grimaced. “Are you s-”

“Gabe, you said you could get him out of me if we were in the same place, right?”

“I… I would have a much better chance. I can't make any promises.”

“Good enough.” Dean sat down, absently scratching at his chest. “Let's get him here. How do we do it?”

Gabe snapped and a book appeared on the table. “I already know how to summon him. We just need a vessel for him to stay in. Some sort of clay homunculus.”

Dean gave an almost-smile. “A modern-day Adam?”

Gabe shrugged. “I was a fan of Adam.”

“What, the maker of sin?” Sam asked dubiously.

Gabe grinned. “I am also a fan of sin.” He began flipping through the pages. “Besides. He just didn't want Eve to be all alone when she got kicked out. He loved her.”

Sam leaned back in his chair, thinking. “What if this doesn't work?”

“Then I go into Heaven myself, kick his ass, and drag him back here.”

“What, alone? I could go-”

“Oh, _hell_ no, Samster. You don't need to get anywhere  _near_ Heaven.”

“Why not?”

Gabriel paused and looked up at Sam. “Ah, fuck. That little-” Gabe sighed, turning fully towards Sam. “I take it you don't understand your part in this war.”

“My part?”

“There can't be a fight between Lucifer and Michael if  _Michael_ is the only one with a vessel.”

Sam raised an eyebrow and Gabriel sighed.

“Sam. You're _Lucifer's_ vessel.”


	68. Chapter 68

“Woah woah, Sam! Calm down! Jesus Christ, it's okay!”

“ _IT’S NOT OKAY! I'M THE GODDAMN_ **_DEVIL’S_ ** _VESSEL!”_

Gabe scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “I mean, things are already super off-course. The Apocalypse might not even _happen_ in your lifetime.”

Sam glared at Gabe, pausing in his pacing. “And if it _does?”_

“Then now you know! Fuckfuckfuck. I’m gonna have to tell you the whole damn prophecy, aren't I?” Gabriel ran a hand over his jaw before his eyes widened. “Wait fuck duh _wait._ I know where to take you! Wait it isn't warded, fuckityfuckfuckfu-”

“GABRIEL.”

Gabe turned to Jess, who was covering Billy’s ears with a scowl.

Gabe winced. “Sorry. Okay, we need to go to a place except I need _you guys_ to ward it before I show up so I don't get fuuuuuuuuuuuureaky with the maid.”

Dean snickered as Jess glared.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just give us the address.”

\---

Sam, Jess, and Dean painted sigils on the outside of the house, Billy safely at home with Babs and Bobby. After the first few, they didn't need to look at the reference sheets Gabriel had made them. It was a solid half-hour before a drunk-looking man staggered outside.

“What-... What are you doing to my house?” he asked.

Sam straightened up from where he was bent, and the guy immediately took a few steps backwards, holding his hands up. “Woah woah woah, hey. It's okay, man, I'm not looking for a fight.”

Sam huffed and examined their handiwork. “I think we’re done anyways. Can we come in?”

The man paled. “Please don’t…”

Dean shouldered past him, giving him a large grin and a pat on the back as he passed. Sam smiled as he walked in, and Jess linked her arm through the man’s and led him inside, too. The door shut behind them.

“Help… He-Help yourself to my house just do-don’t kill me please.”

Dean flipped out his cell phone, dialing a new number. “Hey, sugar lips. We’re all ready.”

Almost as soon as he hung up, Gabriel appeared lounging on a desk covered in papers. “Chuck Shurley,” Gabe said, absently looking through the pages.

Chuck spun around to see Gabriel. “Y-y-you’re-”

“The archangel Gabriel, at your service.”

Chuck’s jaw fell open. “But you can't- you're not-... You're _dead!”_

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “Oh, so I don't even need to explain the whole 'you’re a prophet’ thing? Perfect! More time for you to explain _what the fuck has been going on with the story.”_

“The story…?”

Gabriel viciously shook the papers at Chuck. “ _This_ story. The one you've been… prophet-ing.”

“Prophesying.”

“Yeah, that. What exactly have you been writing?”

Chuck stared at Gabriel for so long that Dean shouldered him. “Hey. Dude’s talking to you.”

“I-I just… I'm… How are you _alive?!”_

“Quid pro quo, Chuck.”

Chuck shook his head, mumbling something as he went to pour himself some whiskey. “I dunno? I've just been writing what I see. Apocalypse, end times are near, that kinda stuff.”

“Mhm. What about Sam’s baby?”

Chuck drained his glass and poured another. “His what?”

“His baby. Billy. What do you have about him?”

Chuck frowned. “I don't. I don't have anything.”

Gabriel pointed to Dean. “What about his college experience? That surely has to be a cool chapter.”

“His… I'm sorry, what? No, he never went to college.”

“So you're a useless prophet.”

Chuck actually looked slightly offended. “I really don't think-”

“Shush. You’ve just been writing the story. None of what you've written is gonna come true.”

Chuck looked at Gabriel confusedly. “I don't follow.”

Dean tilted his head. “Wait so… You're like… seeing shit and writing it down?”

Chuck turned to Dean, immediately looking more comfortable. “Yeah. Yeah, exactly.”

Dean gave Chuck a funny look before turning to Sam. “Hey. Maybe _you're_ a prophet. Had anymore weird dreams lately?”

“Oh, all the time. But they're never about me or anyone I know so…” Sam shrugged.

Gabriel cursed. “Ah, fuck. Forgot to fix that.” He snapped his fingers and Sam coughed a few times. “Congratulations! Your blood is clean.”

Sam gave Gabriel a thumbs-up, obviously basking in Chuck’s increasing confusion.

Chuck downed another shot.

“Hey, Chuck,” Dean said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

Chuck looked extremely uncomfortable. “Yep?”

“Are you _actually_ a prophet? 'Cause from what _I_ can see, you're literally failing at the one thing a prophet does. No offense.”

Chuck gritted his teeth. “A lot taken. I've answered your questions. How are you alive, Gabriel?”

Gabe shrugged. “Magic. Hey, guys, we can lay off now. If Raphael was gonna come down, he would've by now.”

Dean grinned and let Chuck go, grabbing the bottle to pour him another shot. “Sorry man. The angels may’ve been listening to your thoughts, and confusion is hard to hear over.”

“Right. Thanks,” Chuck mumbled, downing the shot in one go.

Sam dug around in his bag for a moment before producing a container of pancakes. “We brought these as a peace treaty.”

“Thanks?”

After a bit of time and a few pancakes, Chuck was lounging around with the crew on the couch.

“Wa-wa-wait, so, if nothing turned out as I saw, what's going on in your lives?”

Sam took a drink from a beer and grinned. “Well, I have a baby!”

“ _We_ have a baby,” Jess teased.

“Yeah, we have a baby!”

Chuck smiled wide. “That's amazing! Do you have-”

“ _Of course we have pictures!”_ Jess squealed, scooting closer to Chuck and pulling out her wallet.

Dean watched them, a fond smile on his face as he leaned his head back against Gabriel’s shoulder. Gabriel kissed his forehead gently, wrapping an arm around him.

“I’m happy to see them happy,” Gabriel whispered to Dean.

Dean hummed softly. “It's my favorite thing to see,” he whispered back.

“Well that's just because you haven't seen me naked.”

Dean snorted, covering his mouth as he laughed. “You're awful,” he whispered, tilting his head back farther to look at Gabriel’s smile.

“Wait. Are you two together?” Chuck asked, his attention now on them.

Dean waved his hand absently. “Shhh. Go back to the baby pictures. She doesn't have a lot of people that haven't already seen them.” He closed his eyes and settled in against Gabriel, a soft smile gracing his face.

There was a moment, and then Jess was chatting all about Billy again.

“You'd think a prophet would know this stuff,” Gabriel whispered.

Dean laughed softly. “Yeah, you would.”

Gabriel took advantage of the momentary lapse of attention on them to nibble playfully on Dean’s ear.

Dean’s eyes shot open and his face turned beet-red.

Gabriel chuckled in his ear. “What a fun reaction.”

“Hey Dean,” Chuck said suddenly. “Could you get me another pancake please?”

“Yep!” Dean responded, jumping up quickly and walking to the in-room kitchen.

“Thank you,” Chuck said as Dean handed him his plate.

Dean nuzzled back against Gabriel, fully intending to repay Gabe’s favor.

“You're gonna have to get me Babs’ recipe,” Chuck said around a mouthful of pancake.

Dean snorted. “Good luck. She guards that recipe like it's the library of Alexandria.”

He waited until Sam, Jess, and Chuck were all in conversation again about life and the Apocalypse and whatever else to lean back a bit farther and nip at Gabriel’s jaw. He paused with his lips against it, eyebrows furrowing.

Sam sighed loudly. “Dean, you're in _public.”_

Dean slowly pulled away, staring at Chuck but addressing Sam. “Right. Sorry.” He looked around the room for a moment. “You know, we should probably get home and save Cas.”

“I was wondering about him!” Chuck exclaimed. “How is he?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “In intense pain, I imagine.”

“...I see.”

Dean stood up, brushing off his pants. “Thanks for the chat. Glad we know the story that isn't happening. Clears up a lot of stuff that's been going on.” Dean held out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Chuck regarded him curiously. “The pleasure's all mine,” he responded, shaking Dean’s hand slowly.

\---

Gabriel plopped down beside Dean on the bed. “What a day!” he exclaimed, stretching his arms out before turning over and snuggling Dean.

“I think that was God,” Dean deadpanned.

Gabriel laughed. “Yeah, sure. And I'm a sex god. ...oh wait!”

Dean grinned, wrapping his arms around Gabriel. “I'm being serious.”

Gabriel playfully licked at Dean’s neck. “What makes ya think Deadline Dave is God?”

“He knew those were Mom’s pancakes. I never mentioned her.”

“Yeah but he's a prophet. It's his job.”

“But he sucks at his job. He hasn't gotten a single thing right.”

Gabriel leaned up and kissed Dean’s jaw. “That's true. But there are plenty of other things he could be.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “We warded against everything else.”

Gabriel hummed thoughtfully. “Let me roll it over in my head. Right now you're tense.”

Dean huffed. “Yeah, it's almost like you're potentially risking your life tomorrow.”

Gabriel looked at him with sober, surprised eyes. “Are you worried about me?”

“If I say yes will you agree to not go?”

Gabriel laid his head against Dean’s chest, smiling softly. “It's only a back-up plan, sugar lips.”

Dean was silent for a while before he whispered, “I'm worried about you.”

Gabriel closed his eyes. “I'll be okay. I'm a big boy. Can tie my own shoes and everything.”

Dean’s hand ran through Gabriel’s hair slowly. “What god?”

“Hm?”

“What god are you?”

“I'm not… not _really_ a god but I'm worshipped as Loki.”

“Loki.”

“Yep.”

Dean raised his head to look at Gabe. " _Loki.”_

“Yes?”

Dean grinned, let his head fall back, and laughed. “You're a freaking comic book antihero.”

Gabriel fake-pouted. “Hey, watch your tone. People _worship_ me.”

Dean kissed his head. “I could worship you,” he breathed out.

Gabriel raised his head to look at Dean. “Them's fuckin’ words, babe.”

Dean gently took Gabe’s hand, bringing it to his lips. “Every inch of you.”

A soft pink ran across Gabriel’s face. “Hey now…”

Dean gently kissed Gabriel’s fingertips, staring into his eyes as he darted his tongue across them.

“Ooooookay, babe. Hold up. We gotta talk.”

Dean released Gabe’s hand. “Um, okay. What's…?”

“We might need to hold off on this stuff.”

“.......oh.”

Gabe snorted. “Don't you 'oh’ me. It's not like that. It's just… You kinda just went through something really traumatic. Rushing this isn't gonna be good for either of us.”

Dean pouted a little. Just a little. “Thought you were a sex god?”

Gabe wriggled up the bed until he was eye level with Dean, hovering over him. “I am. And part of being a _very_ successful and _highly_ worshiped sex god is knowing when sex is good, when it's bad, and how it needs to happen.” Gabriel took in the hesitance in Dean’s expression and kissed his cheek gently. “Hey. Quit that worrying. I'm not going anywhere.”

Dean grinned, and relief washed through his eyes. “Yeah, who else is gonna put up with your shit anyways?”

“Oh, I'm sure there are some _very_ eager fangirls out there somewhere,” Gabe responded casually, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “Maybe we could _both_ find them.”

Dean barked out a laugh, hand against his head. “Oh gosh. If you had _literally_ asked me a few years ago…”

“What? The self-proclaimed horny twenty-five year old doesn't wanna have a four-five-six-some?”

Dean wrapped his arms around Gabriel. “Dunno. I've kinda got the whole apple pie life thing goin’ on here.”

“Apple pie life?”

“Yeah, ya know, like… Ya come home, and someone you love that loves you back is there, and you have supper and apple pie. There's time for homemade apple pie.”

“Have you had a homemade apple pie recently?”

“Nah, but lots of pancakes.”

Gabriel grinned, nuzzling into Dean’s shoulder. “I've been told I make excellent apple pie.”

“By who? Your fangirls?”

Gabe fake-glared. “Okay, smartass. I'll make you an apple pie and let you be the judge.”

Dean couldn't stop the laughter rolling off him. “I just might cry tears of joy.”

“I might even wear a French maid outfit!”

“All my fantasies, coming true at once.”

“Oh, _come on._ That can't be all of them!”

Dean smirked at Gabriel. “Guess you'll have to find out.”

Gabe rolled his eyes and snuggled back against Dean. “Goodnight, Deanie-Baby.”

“Goodnight, Gabe Lincoln.”

There was a beat, and then Gabriel was wheezing with laughter. “The - _fuck -_ kinda - pet name is - _that?!_ ” he managed between laughs.

Dean gave him a sweet, innocent kiss on the nose. “Yours.”

Gabriel’s giggles subsided slowly and he flipped Dean off. “Ah, fuck you, you dork.”

Dean grinned. “Fuck you, too.”

\---

Dean and Gabe were drinking tea and making pancakes by the time anyone else woke up.

Sam stumbled in, bleary-eyed, and had to pause to assess the situation.

Gabriel was stirring a syrup pot, trying not to laugh as Dean showed off the fact that _he_ could flip pancakes, too. Dean saw Sam, waved, and missed the pancake on the way down, winding up with it in his face instead.

Sam and Gabriel burst out laughing as Dean attempted to eat the pancake without moving it.

“Good morning, you guys,” Sam said, starting up the coffee maker. “You two seem happy.”

Gabriel shrugged. “What can I say? He brings out the best in me.”

Dean grinned, pulling the pancake off his head. “Don't you mean the _worst?”_

Gabe took the pancake, munching on it. “Same difference.”

Sam watched the two of them interact. The way they seemed to move perfectly around each other, the way they acted. Almost jarringly, Sam remembered two years ago, when Dean was on the verge of killing himself, ready to fork over his own soul.

Dean dissolved into giggles at something Gabriel said, and Sam took a shuddering breath and ducked out of the room, not quite ready to explain why he was crying.


	69. Chapter 69

“Are you sure you want to be here, Dean?”

Dean nodded at Gabriel. “I need to see him. For my own sanity.”

Gabriel nodded, and, with one swoop of his arm, cleared the entire barn floor. “Well, then. Let's get to work.”

They went about setting up the entire ritual, covering the barn in sigils before Gabriel was finally pleased with their handiwork.

“Aaaaaand, last but not least, our little homunculus buddy!” Gabriel swirled his hands, and a mud, human-like… thing… appeared. “We’re ready.”

Gabriel lit a bowl of occult ingredients on fire, mumbling strange words until the fire went out suddenly.

Dean’s head spun and he reached out a hand towards Gabriel. Gabe snapped his eyes to look at him and placed a hand gently against Dean’s forehead, calming the storm slightly. “Relax, I've got you,” Gabriel murmured.

“Gabriel?” Dean said, his voice echoing.

Gabriel spun around to see his little mud person taking on life.

So.

Not an echo.

The mud pile roiled and rolled until a dirty arm wiped the face away, revealing Jimmy Novak’s face underneath. The eyes opened to glowing blue, and Castiel gasped in a breath.

“Just a copy,” Gabriel whispered to Dean.

Dean wasn't sure when his hand grabbed Gabriel’s, but he squeezed it anyways.

Castiel stumbled, and Gabriel rushed forward to help him.

Cas shrank away from the touch, pushing his hands over his own ears. “Nononononono you're not real, you're not _real-”_

“Cassie, brother, I'm here. I'm real.”

Cas merely shook his head, his eyes closing tight as he shuddered.

Gabriel jumped when Dean sat down beside him.

“Dean, you don't have to be here. I know how ha-”

“When I was little,” Dean started, “I found a stray dog. One I thought Sammy would love. Dad was out of town, as always, and I thought it would make him feel better. Anyways. I chased it all around the block, until I finally had it cornered. And it attacked me, because it was scared and it didn't know any better. Dad had to get me a rabies shot. It was awful, and he was _so_ pissed about it.”

“Nice parable, Jesus.”

“Cas didn't know what he did. He's hurt and scared. That doesn't excuse it but… he didn't mean to. I'm… okay.”

Gabriel gently brushed some mud off his little brother’s cheek.

Dean looked at the small, shaking form in front of him and let out a breath. “Let's get him cleaned up.”

\---

They filled Gabriel’s pool with warm water and lavender. Gabe walked around the room with a sage smudge stick, letting the sweet smoke fill up every high corner. Dean kept glancing back at Castiel, who had a blanket wrapped around him now and was staring at the floor.

“Few more,” Gabriel told Dean softly, handing him bundles of herbs. They threw in rosemary, peppermint, and something Dean didn't recognize all ground up like that. Gabriel untied his smudge stick and threw in the rest of the sage before walking over to Castiel.

Gabe rested his hands on Castiel’s cheeks, looking deep into his eyes. “Come on, baby bro. Let's wash Heaven off of you.”

Cas let himself be led to the pool, and Gabriel and Dean exchanged a glance.

Dean closed the door behind him.

\---

Gabe gently picked up Cas and sat him in the warm water, shortly undressing and following himself. Cas refused to meet his eyes, instead watching the flowers float by.

Gabriel grabbed a nearby vase - _Ancient Greek, thank you very much -_ and filled it with the fragrant water, pouring it over Cas’s mud-caked hair. “What did they do to you, brother?” Gabriel mumbled, taking care not to get it in Castiel’s eyes.

Gabriel filled the vase again. “Do you remember?” he asked softly, running his free hand through Castiel’s tangled hair. “When you were little, and Creation was new, you and I would sneak past Ihemiah and come down to Earth. You would chase all the little animals and roll around in the clay. Do you know how many times I had to clean your wings?” Gabriel asked amusedly.

“Sorry,” Castiel whispered.

The water was getting murky, and with half a breath Gabriel cleaned it again and went back to untangling Cas’s hair. “Aw, don't apologize. It was cute. You were always my favorite, and I enjoyed getting to spend time with you.”

“You died.”

Gabriel sighed and gave Cas’s hair one last rinse. “I ran away. I was afraid.”

“I missed you.”

“Oh, _ror od geraa,_ I missed you, too,” Gabriel breathed out. “I’ve missed you as entirely as the flood.” Gabriel wiped away the muddy tears that were cascading down Castiel’s cheeks. “I've missed you as the river runs. I've missed you as the canyons burrow. My brother, my _brother_ , I've missed you.”

Castiel wrapped his arms tight around Gabriel, burying his face in his shoulder and sobbing.

Gabriel held him tight, and the mud was washed away with their tears.


	70. Chapter 70

Gabriel closed the door with a sigh, and Dean sat down the book he had been reading in bed.

“How is he?” Dean asked.

Gabriel sat down on the edge of the bed, running his hands over his face and looking older than he had in years. “I don't know.”

Dean observed his bare back, eyes travelling as far down as his boxers. “You're tense,” he noted softly.

“Aw, no shit,” Gabriel sassed back.

Dean crawled over to him and wrapped his arms around him. “You want a massage?”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes, turning to look at him. “You just want in my pants.”

Dean snorted. “Not everything has to be sexual, Gabe.”

Gabriel huffed and pointed to a drawer. “Massage oils in there. You better be good at this, Dean-o.”

Dean retrieved them. “Or else what?” he teased.

Gabriel laid out on his stomach, tanned skin stretching out. “Or else I'll be sad, I dunno.”

Dean straddled Gabriel’s ass and rubbed his back softly. “Wow, you _must_ be upset. Even your comebacks are lame.”

Gabe closed his eyes and tried to relax. “He's so hurt,” he whispered. “Like a bird that got thrown out of the nest too soon.”

“It'll take him a few days to really be where he can talk about it, maybe longer.”

“And you,” Gabe muttered, slowly relaxing. “Are you okay?”

Dean rubbed his thumbs in circles up Gabriel’s spine. “I'm better. I'm not entirely there yet but… I'm better.” Dean dropped down to kiss the top of Gabriel’s back. “What about you? How are you doing?”

“I'm just worried. And… and _pissed._ I'm so fucking pissed but I can't _do_ anything about it yet.”

Dean worked on the knots just around Gabe’s shoulder blades. “Yet?”

Gabe let out a low groan. “Yet. When Cassie is - _fuck -_ when Cassie is okay, I'm- I’m gonna-...”

Dean moved his hands to Gabriel’s lower back, and Gabriel let out a soft breath.

“I'm gonna go up there myself and cast every single one of those sorry bastards down to Earth.”

“What about Michael?” Dean asked, slowly moving his hands back up experimentally.

Gabe bit back a groan. “I'll cast that fat fuck out first.”

Dean rubbed around his shoulder blades again. “You're really tense here, huh?”

Gabriel fisted the sheets. “Those are my _wings_ and they're fucking _sensitive,_ you _ass!”_

“Oh!” Dean exclaimed, yanking his hands away. “I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt yo-”

“It doesn't hurt,” Gabe mumbled.

“Oh? Ohhhh…” Dean grinned, slowly rubbing his hands over Gabriel’s upper back.

“Damn you,” Gabriel grumbled.

Dean pressed a soft kiss to each of his shoulder blades, earning himself soft moans.

Dean laughed softly. “Is there anything else weighing on you?” He went back to the normal massage, hands on Gabe’s shoulders.

Gabe wiggled his hips, effectively bouncing Dean on his ass. “You.”

Dean grinned. “You tired?”

Gabe groaned. “ _So fucking much.”_

Dean rolled off of him, snuggling up beside him. “Then shall we sleep?”

Gabe looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. “We shall. G’night, Dean.”

“Goodnight, Gabriel.”

\---

Dean gasped awake, eyes flying open. Someone had him pinned down-

Gabriel. Gabriel had him pinned down.

“Wh-... Where-...?” Dean mumbled.

Dean looked around and recognized the hallway.

Gabriel was breathing hard, head falling against Dean’s shoulder.

“Gabe…?”

Gabriel’s head snapped up, staring at someone Dean couldn't see. “Go to your room.”

Feet shuffled away and Gabriel collapsed against Dean.

“H-hey, hey…” Dean said, holding Gabriel. “What happened?”

“We are separating you two tomorrow.”

“O-... Okay…”

Gabriel shuddered. “I woke up and you were _gone_ and I found you and you just _fought_ me.”

Dean rubbed Gabriel’s lower back, turning his face into his hair. “I'm sorry.”

“I forgive you.” Gabriel let out a huff of breath. “How's your chest, Wolverine?”

Dean gave him a confused look. “Um, fine, Loki.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes and sat up, balancing himself on Dean’s hips. “Let me heal you?”

Dean slowly raised his own shirt, wincing slightly. There were large scratch marks all across his chest, half of them deep and bloody. “What-?”

“I think it was your body trying to reject the grace. So. Your answer?”

“Um, yeah. Sure. Heal me.”

With a wave of his hand, Gabriel dissolved the scratches.

Dean fisted his bloody shirt, frowning. “Can we do it now?”

Gabe snorted. “Always so ready for me, aren't you?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “The separation. Can we do it now?”

Gabriel ran a hand through his own hair, and only now did Dean recognize the blood smears across his hands.

With a jolt, Dean realized Gabriel had been trying to stop him.

“Yeah, okay,” Gabriel finally said, slumping. “I still ain't making promises.”

Dean reached up to hold his hands and smile at him. “Just… do your best.”

\---

Dean didn't really remember much of it.

Once he was in the same room as Cas, everything went fuzzy and swirly and dizzy. He was aware of his mouth moving, his legs running, his hands clawing - his hands embracing.

Then there was a different light. Gold filtered through his consciousness, fit into the cracks in his soul, and-

Fucking tore everything to shreds.

It was like his entire _being_ was being pulled through a shredder, little pieces flying everywhere until he didn't even have a sense of _place_ anymore. He existed on a separate plane, without a space, without a single spot in the world, without-

Worlds bloomed. Worlds decayed. The cycle of life displayed before him, the universe's secrets revealed to a disembodied-

He was slipping. He was slipping and falling and-

Dean gasped in air.

He was clinging to Castiel.

And, for the first time, his soul was silent.

“Gabriel?” he whispered, stumbling back and falling onto the floor. Everything spun, but, this time, it was just his damn human brain. He reached out blindly. “Gabriel…”

“I'm here.”

Dean opened his eyes to _eyeseyeswingslightterrorterror_ ** _terror_** -

Familiar darkness.

“Oh for fuck's sake-”

Light again, soft, with Gabriel’s concerned face looking over him. Dean blinked.

“You good, cupcake?” Gabe asked, only his eyes betraying his emotions.

“I'm… good. What-”

“True form. Don't ask. Sit up slowly.”

Dean nodded, obeying. “Cas…?”

Castiel collapsed beside him, groaning. “Everything hurts.”

Gabriel gave him a quick once-over. “He's good.”

Dean curled up against Gabriel’s bent knees, breathing hard. “I feel strange.”

“I ripped half of you out and gave you half back. I'd be concerned if you didn't.”

Cas stared up at the ceiling. “I think I'm going to throw up.”

Gabriel huffed, even as he smiled. “What? Now I have _two_ babies to take care of?”

Dean took a deep, steadying breath and stood up, almost immediately regretting it. “I… I feel like I did something wrong.”

Cas rolled onto his stomach. “Surely that's just the lingering taste of traitor in your mouth. My apologies.”

“Glad you're feeling better,” Dean mumbled. “I'm… I'm going back to sleep.”

\---

It was almost an hour before Gabriel snuck into the room, pausing when he saw Dean staring at the ceiling.

Gabriel laid beside him and waited.

Dean frowned. “It was a part of me.”

“For a long while there, yeah.”

“And now it's gone.”

“Entirely.”

“What if… Was it defining me? Am I someone else now?”

“You're you. You're you no matter what you do. You let go of something that wasn't doing you any good. That's good.”

Dean winced. “What if it's bad?”

Gabriel turned on his side, draping an arm across Dean. “Why would it be bad?”

“It's just… it's been almost a year now and I think, like, at some point, it just became how I defined myself. I am Dean Heeren and whoops I've got some fucking angel grace where half my soul should be.”

Gabriel sweetly kissed his shoulder. “Do you really believe that you can be defined?”

They stared into each other's eyes for a long time before Dean finally sighed. “No, I suppose not.”

“Then how can this define you?”

Dean slowly relaxed, examining those caramel eyes, and gave a shy smile. “May I kiss you now?”

A wide grin spread across Gabriel’s face. “Well, sweetcheeks, I thought you'd never ask!”

Their lips met softly. Dean’s hand rested on Gabe’s cheek, drawing him just a bit closer, and Gabe responded by scooting his body against Dean’s.

The kiss was unhurried, slow, an exploration of the other. Gabriel tasted like candy - like caramel - like _warmth,_  like _home._  To Gabriel, Dean tasted like apples, like gentleness, like compassion, like the home he never had.

Dean smiled wide when he recognized the taste.

Not caramel apples.

Apple pie.


	71. Chapter 71

“Let me take you on that date.”

Dean yawned and stretched his arms out before turning to Gabriel sleepily. “Hm?”

Gabe grinned at him. “I was promised another date! So let's date. How about tonight at six? I'll take you on a date like you've  _ never  _ been on before.”

“How promising,” Dean mumbled tiredly, smiling. “Yeah, sure. You gonna take me home so I can get ready? And. Ya know. Go to class today?”

Gabriel feigned offense. “What? You mean to tell me you've already grown tired of my wonderful, colorful wardrobe?”

Dean laughed. “I look like the 80s threw up on me.”

“Fiiiiiine. Green really suits you, though.” Gabe leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Breakfast?”

Dean gave him a longer kiss back. “Breakfast.”

\---

Dean was laughing so hard he was crying, trying in vain to wrestle the flour from Gabriel.

Gabriel was merely smirking. “Oh, c’mon, Dean Machine! You said you wanted apple pie!”

“Not for breakfast!” Dean managed before dissolving into more laughter.

“What is breakfast but merely the time at which we have food?”

Dean finally wrestled the flour from Gabe, who tried to look like he didn't just  _ let  _ it happen. “Nope. Nuh-uh. Breakfast is  _ what  _ you eat. If you're not eating breakfast food then it's not  _ really  _ breakfast!”

Gabe smirked at him. “Then what do you suggest we have?”

“Hmm,” Dean mused aloud. “Do you have eggs and bacon?”

Gabriel arched one unimpressed eyebrow, and farm fresh eggs and bacon materialized on the counter.

“Oh, right. Duh. Okay, this? This good?” Dean asked, already searching for pans.

Gabriel unashamedly watched Dean’s ass as he bent over. “Yeah. It's fucking fantastic!”

Dean glanced back and winked at him before grabbing a pan and setting it on the stove top. “You gonna let me cook for you this time?”

Gabe sat at the counter, propping his head in his hands and smiling at Dean. “Sure, babe.”

Dean began laying strips of bacon in the pan. “Is Cas gonna want some, too?”

Gabe shrugged. “Maybe. If he doesn't, I'll eat his.”

Dean laughed. “Alright, I can roll with that plan.”

Dean was done with the bacon and starting on the eggs when Cas stumbled in, bleary-eyed and bed-headed. He sat down beside Gabriel and laid his head on the counter.

Dean rolled his eyes. “'Morning, Clarence.”

Cas grunted.

“Want some bacon?”

Castiel raised his head enough to glare at the bacon for a moment. “Yes.”

Dean passed the plate his way, and Cas took a few pieces.

“Thank you,” Cas mumbled.

Gabe shouldered Cas. “So what's your next big move, bro-bro?”

Cas huffed. “It's-... Ah, the word escapes me. How am I even exhausted?” Castiel sighed and mumbled something Enochian to Gabriel, who immediately burst out laughing.

Dean raised an eyebrow at them.

Gabe grinned back. “Sorry. Ah, he said his next big plan is to, and I quote, 'Fuck shit up.’”

Dean couldn't help the small smile on his face. “So what? You gonna nuke Heaven, big guy?”

Cas shrugged and stuffed more bacon in his mouth. “I was privy to the plans,” he said around his food. “I'm going to do everything in my power to dismantle them.”

“I'm getting serious graffiti artist, aspiring convict vibes from you.”

Castiel smacked his hand down on the counter. “Down with the man!” he said, completely serious, eyes blazing.

Dean flipped the eggs and grinned openly. “What man?”

“God!”

Gabriel talked around his food, “You’re gonna take down  _ God?” _

Cas nodded resolutely. “First Naomi. I'll work my way down the line.”

Dean divided the eggs onto three plates, placing what was left of the bacon on them as well. “Then you'll need your strength. Eat up.”

Cas nodded again. “Thank you.”

They ate in relative silence. Dean checked the time, cursed, kissed Gabriel’s cheek, and grabbed his things as quickly as he could.

Cas looked between the two of them. “You're together?”

Gabe shrugged. “Sure.”

Cas nodded and went back to his breakfast.


	72. Their Eyes Were Watching God

Gabriel flitted about aimlessly, flying through the underdeveloped lands. He liked it here, away from all the human pressures. No one knew him. His brothers couldn't find him.

Here, now, he was free.

With a heavy sigh, he landed on a large cactus, stretching his wings wide.

Startled gasping almost knocked him off his perch.

He looked out to see humans staring at him in awe.

He cocked his head to the side.

“ _Hello?”_ one said.

Gabriel flew off.

\---

By the time he had circled back years later, a civilization was flourishing.

He sat cross-legged in the bushes, watching curiously as people venerated statues that were a poor imitation of his form. He narrowed his eyes. They shouldn't even be able to _see_ his form.

Perhaps these were not men.

Gabriel huffed and laid out, rolling in the mud until he was shrunk, covered. He was a mud being.

He wanted closer.

Moving clumsily in the tiny suit, he shuffled forward in the bushes until his head poked out, feeling something within him stir at the sight of _himself_ being worshipped.

He crawled out.

“ _No,”_ he told a woman, taking the flowers from her hands. “ _Do not worship. This is wrong.”_

Mud dripped from his face as the woman stared. “ _T_ _enoch?”_

Gabriel laid the flowers on the ground. They immediately took stalk and root, growing back to full glory.

All movement in the city stopped.

Before he knew what was happening, he was being hailed, showered with gifts. His hands and feet were kissed, and a few more daring humans kissed his lips. His mud was washed away with fragrant oil, and, without warning, a large vat of blood was dumped onto him.

He sputtered, wiping it out of his eyes as a weird sensation vibrated across his body.

The blood was gone.

“ _What is going on?”_ Gabriel asked, marveling at his spotless brown arms.

“ _The offering has been absorbed! Quetzalcoatl has given his oath for you! Hail, O hail this god!”_

The humans fell down prostrate all around him, soft sounds escaping their mouths as they venerated. Gabriel’s wings fluttered at the attention.

The soft breeze behind him caught him off guard.

With great hesitancy, he stretched as far as he could, bright green wings jutting fifteen feet in either direction.

 _“These are not mine,”_ he said.

 _“Quetzalcoatl has gifted you his wings, Beautiful One,”_ a worshipper said, head still against the ground in respect.

 _“Please rise,”_ Gabriel pleaded.

The humans rose slowly. Children’s eyes never strayed from his wings.

A man with a headdress much like Gabriel’s wings stood before him. “ _What would you like us to do now, O powerful one?”_

Gabriel looked out across the sea of people. “ _What do you know of angels?”_ he finally asked.

There was confused mumbling.

Gabriel grinned. “ _I would like to stay.”_

\---

They led him to a throne, which he sat in front of, gesturing for the children to come closer. He made birds and flowers with small flourishes of his hands, causing toddlers to shriek with joy and babies laugh.

“ _Huehuecoyotl,”_ one of the older children said, marvelling at the peacock he had never seen before.

Gabriel tilted his head.

 _“God of mischief,”_ the child repeated.

\---

Beautiful women and men ran their fingers through his iridescent feathers, further distracting him from what was going on around him. He closed his eyes and allowed himself this small pleasure, only opening them again when the chief cleared his throat.

Gabriel opened his eyes to see a young man bowed before him, and another man holding a weapon to his throat.

 _“For you,”_ the other man said, raising his weapon to strike.

Gabriel made a sharp noise and the man paused.

“ _I do not want,”_ Gabriel said.

There was concerned murmuring.

“ _You must have a sacrifice,”_ the chief finally supplied.

Gabriel furrowed his brow and crawled forward until he was kneeling at the same level as the sacrifice.

The young man stared at him with wide eyes.

 _“I do not desire your death,”_ Gabriel assured him.

The man rushed forward, lips crashing against Gabriel’s, arms bound behind him, human noises escaping his throat.

Gabriel watched his closed eyes, examining the emotions flitting across them. The man’s tongue touched his lips as he whispered praises, and Gabriel’s eyes blew wide.

Lilies bloomed all around them, solid gold.

\---

By the time Castiel escaped Heaven again, Gabriel had settled into the civilization. Tenochca, they called themselves. Gabriel helped them with things like charting the stars, and in turn they taught him much about humanity.

He was in love with these people.

He watched them live and die with such beauty, such… _audacity_. They declared war and made love, worshipped gods and worshipped nature.

Gabriel asked them to stop worshipping him.

He could still feel the veneration in the looks, the caresses. They honored him a specific day each year, and that was the day Gabriel allowed himself to succumb to these… _human_ pleasures. Allowed his wings to be groomed and his lips kissed. Let himself walk naked in the water and wrap his human limbs around the other naked forms.

Let himself be loved.

Perhaps - yes - this. Perhaps this was love.

Castiel wandered into the city years later and was taken prisoner. He did not resist. When Gabriel saw him, he cried out with joy and ran to him, holding him tightly.

 _“My brother, my brother!”_ Gabriel told Castiel, tears streaming down his dark face.

Castiel’s eyes widened. “ _Gabriel?”_

Gabriel kissed him, and it was nothing like the kisses he gave the Tenochca. This was joy and brotherly love.

Gabriel pulled back and looked into Castiel’s brown eyes, and he felt terror and comfort.

Because his lost brother had returned.

Because this. This here.

This was love.

Once Castiel had settled into life with him, the Tenochca gifted him with a name.

Xmulzencab.

The god of the bees.

\---

Gabriel and Castiel walked among the trees, fingers intertwined.

“ _I miss home,”_ Castiel told Gabriel.

“ _It is no good for you.”_

Castiel sighed and gazed up into the trees. _“That bird there looks like your wings.”_

_“That's a quetzal. They have a god like it.”_

_“They have many gods. Are any of them real?”_

_“We are real.”_

_“We are not gods.”_

Gabriel shrugged. “ _We are to them, and that's what matters.”_

There was quiet for a long time. Cas hung his head. “ _I will need to return home soon. I was sent on a mission. I did not expect to find you.”_

_“You never do.”_

Castiel brushed off the remark that he did not understand. _“I will not tell our brothers and sisters of your hiding spot.”_

_“Thank you, Cassie.”_

_“Will you be coming home soon?”_

Gabriel looked at his little brother sadly. “ _Yes,”_ he lied.

\---

Castiel left soon thereafter.

It would be almost three hundred years before Gabriel saw him again.

\---

Gabriel walked into the forest when he heard the armies approaching. He scouted on foot. He followed the clunking sounds of metal until he saw the Spanish.

_The Christians._

In a rush of feathers, he flew back to his people, to their chief.

“ _Do not trust them,”_ Gabriel warned. “ _They will lie to you. Use your own judgement, but please. Do not trust them.”_

The Tenochca agreed to not trust the incoming armies, to throw them off the scent by pretending they were gods.

Gabriel escaped while he still could.

\---

He screamed when he found out what happened.

\---

The Mississippi River ran backwards for three weeks, as red as the blood of his slaughtered people.

\---

He took to the seas and destroyed every ship he could find with its stolen gold, making sure the last thing the _bastards_ saw was his true visage, melting their eyes right out of their damn sockets.


	73. Chapter 73

Gabriel zapped Dean to school after a reminder that _yes, Dean, I'll be at Babs’s at six exactly._

Dean gave himself a moment to adjust to the new location before heading off to Professor Tawkin’s class.

He was, as always, the only one there.

Dean dropped his bag by the front desk, shirking off his jacket and leaning over to examine the papers on the desk.

“Dean!” a voice said behind him.

Dean gave an absent wave, picking up a field journal and glancing through it. “I didn't know you birdwatch.” He coughed involuntarily as Dr. Tawkin stood beside him. “Or drink.”

Tawkin shrugged lethargically, already unscrewing a flask. “Some nights.”

Dean raised his eyebrow. “And mornings. Um, anyways, I finished that paper and-”

“Ah, yes! Let me see it!”

Dean sat the journal down and rifled through his bag. “It's ah, in here somewhere. Sorry, I was - dammit, where-”

A body pressed against his back, a hand slipping to grip his hip, a bit drunkenly hard. “I can help look,” Tawkin slurred.

Dean stilled, his jaw tightening. “You have five seconds to let go of me or I will punch you so hard you'll wake up in a different _year.”_

“Don't you want me to approve your paper?” a voice rumbled in his ear. “Don't you wanna graduate?”

A hand slipped down to Dean’s ass, and Dean swung his fist.

It had been a long time since he'd punched someone, and he was a bit out of practice. So maybe that's why his aim was a bit off, and he hit closer to forehead than he did nose.

But he still _kinda_ hit nose, enough to shatter the bridge and send Tawkin sprawling.

Dean furiously gathered up his bag and left the class, slamming the door on his way out. His legs carried him their own way, his vision lost to red until he was barging into Ernest's office.

Ernest looked up from his Grecian book, eyebrows raised. “Well, how nice of you to visit me during office hours for once.”

Dean flung his bag down, face red, and Ernest dove to toss him a pillow right before Dean screamed into it.

Ernest patiently closed his book and waited, fingers tented against his desk.

Dean finally brought his face up, breathing hard and glaring at him.

Ernest motioned to the seat in front of him. “Talk to me, son.”

Dean sat down harshly, throwing the pillow back against the armchair in the corner. “Dr. Tawkin _grabbed my fucking ass!”_

“I'm sorry… _what?”_

“The motherfucker was drunk and he slipped up behind me and implied he’d fail me if I didn't cooperate and then he _grabbed my ass.”_

Ernest opened his mouth, closed it, thought a moment, and finally said, “Okay. I have a few things. Firstly, I see that you punched him?”

Dean looked down at his hand, which was very red and swollen. “Fuck,” Dean mumbled.

“Yeah. Looks to be at least a few broken knuckles. Tell me you have proof of some kind, Dean. Please.”

“Proof?”

“You just assaulted a tenured professor. You're going to need proof.”

All the blood drained from Dean’s face.

Ernest continued on. “Dr. Tawkin has been sober for twenty years, ever since that shop incident with his ring. It's going to be very hard to convince someone he not only got _drunk_ again, but was drunk at his _job.”_

Dean ran a hand through his own hair.

“That being said. Dean. Are you okay?”

“I-... I'm gonna be kicked out.”

Ernest walked around his desk to crouch in front of Dean, meeting his eyes. “Which is more important to you: justice or graduation?”

Dean bit his bottom lip worriedly. “Graduation.”

Ernest nodded to himself. “Okay. I can erase his memory of this. Can you live with that?”

Dean growled. “This was the last time I was supposed to see him. Yes.”

“Yeah, the grad ceremony is this weekend, huh? Fuck. Alright, son. I'll take care of this.” Ernest straightened and leaned back against his desk.

“Thank you,” Dean breathed out. “Um, h-how are you and Antiochus?”

Ernest nodded. “We’re great. Ah, hell. Hold on, I've got something here.” He shuffled around his desk until he found an envelope. “This is for you and your siblings. We ah, we’re gonna have a commitment ceremony. Very down-low. You know how it is.”

“Do I ever,” Dean responded, taking the envelope. He grinned at Ernest. “We’ll be there, buddy. Congrats to you two!”

Ernest beamed. “Thank you! Now, let me see your hand. I'll heal it.”

Dean’s phone rang before he could offer up his hand.

“Hello?” Dean answered.

“Dean!” Babs exclaimed from the phone. “Where are you?! What _happened?!”_

Dean winced. “News travels fast, huh?”

Ernest groaned and mumbled something about a “wide-spread obliviate.”

“Tawkin is saying you assaulted him, Dean! He's got a broken nose and a black eye.”

“Serves him right.”

Barbara sighed. “Baby, I know you wouldn't do this if he didn't deserve it, and I want to hear the full story. But right now, you either have to meet us in the boardroom or Tawkin is going to call the police.”

Dean glanced at Ernest, who shrugged and mouthed, 'Give it a shot.’

Dean sighed. “I’m on my way.”

\---

He walked into the boardroom, shutting the door lightly behind him. A jolt of satisfaction ran through him when he saw Tawkin with a mottled purple nose and a swollen shut eye.

His arms were suddenly filled with Barbara, who hugged him like his life depended on it. “Oh hon, are you okay?”

“I mean, I'm fucking pissed but yeah. Well, no. I mean, my hand is kinda screwed up.”

Babs pulled back to look at his hand and winced in sympathy. “Come on. The board has some questions for you.”

Johnson, the Dean of the College of Literature, laid a hand on Barbara’s shoulder. “It's okay,” he said, smiling. “I've got this.”

Johnson put an arm around Dean, leading him to his seat and talking low. “I know you well, Dean,” he said. “I've watched you grow your three years here. You're one of our best students, and I will make sure no one here forgets that. You must've had a reason.”

“Thank you, Dr. J,” Dean said back, taking his seat, heart hammering.

He faced the multitude of faculty there, Babs directly in the middle. She ran her hands across her face and sighed. “Usually we have a few days to organize these things but… Tawkin insisted, so here we are. Let it be stated that Terrence Tawkin has accused Dean Heeren of physically assaulting him. Dean, do you deny this?”

“No.”

Barbara sighed. “Noted. Based on the rules instituted by our university, Tawkin is allowed to speak first. Professor Tawkin.”

Tawkin wiped away the bit of blood that dripped from his nose and began speaking, his voice sounding sick. “Dean came into my classroom to turn in a paper. I told him it was no good and he punched me! That simple.”

Dean’s hands clenched into fists.

Babs nodded at Tawkin. “Thank you, Tawkin. Dean, do you deny this?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Then Dean Heeren, please tell the council what happened.”

“I went to his class to turn in a paper. That part’s true. But I couldn't find it, and while I was looking for it this _bastard-_ ”

“-Dean-”

“-comes up behind me, grabs my hip, and I tell him to let go or I'll hit him. He asks me if I want to graduate and grabs my ass, so I deck him and leave.”

The council was silent, and Babs’s mouth had dropped open. She cleared her throat, obviously flustered. “O-okay, um, Tawkin, do-do you deny these claims?”

Tawkin was red(der) in the face. “Of course I deny them!”

Dean sneered. “Oh really? What was my paper about then?”

Tawkin went silent as the council turned to face him.

“Well?” Babs asked.

“It-It was about the new library classification system that Arthur came up with.”

Dean nodded. “Who did I interview about it?”

“Him, obviously!” Tawkin yelled angrily.

Dean leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Actually, no. I didn't. He was in the middle of ah, the same thing you tried to get me to do, so I interviewed the librarian instead.”

The council looked at Tawkin again.

Dean leaned forward. “What was his name?”

“Excuse me?”

“The librarian. You told them you read my paper. So, what was his name?”

“How am I supposed to remember that?!”

“Oh, believe me. Someone like you wouldn't have forgotten his name.”

Tawkin threw his hands up. “All this is proving is that I can't remember details!”

“But you're a birdwatcher. And his name was Dick.”

Babs was trying her hardest to hide her grin. “I ah, believe I can accept this as proof that Dean’s paper was never read.”

“ _What?!”_ Tawkin snapped.

Babs looked at him, unimpressed. “If one of my students turned in a test with answers like you gave, they would fail that test. However, this still does not prove D- Mr. Heeren’s sexual assault allegations. Dean,” she said softly, addressing him, “Do you have any proof of these claims?”

Dean deflated. “I-...”

“Dean,” Babs prompted, stage-whispering. “Don't you always record all your lectures? On your little Walkman?”

Dean rolled his eyes out of habit. “It's not a Walkman.” _Oh shit._ “Oh shit. Yeah, I do.” He reached for his tape recorder, only to pause.

Because _We’re having a commitment ceremony._

They wouldn't listen to it all, right?

_They'd need it for evidence. They'd have to._

He discreetly pressed the off button. “I… forgot to turn it on today,” he sighed, dropping his head, thumb fiddling with the controls. “Dammit,” he whispered.

Babs exhaled deeply, sitting back. “Then at this point, I am unsure how to proceed.”

Johnson piped up, “May I remind the council that this is Dean Heeren, one of our top students. I've personally met with him many times-”

Babs raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“-and I can personally vouch for his character, as I know many other people on campus can.”

Another professor - _Rhuden,_ Dean remembered - countered, “That still does not change the fact that he physically assaulted a faculty member. We cannot treat him any different.”

Johnson tensed. “What are you implying, Janet?”

Rhuden met his eyes levelly. “He cannot be allowed to attend our university any longer.”

Dean couldn't breathe.

Babs interjected, “Now, we cannot base our judgment off-”

Rhuden interrupted her, “And I do not believe Chancellor Heeren should get a vote, considering how close she is to this student.”

Babs looked desperately to Dean.

Dean took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes, nodding. “Okay,” he croaked out.

He listened to the votes, his world crumbling around him.

6 to 4.

What was he going to tell Sam?

_What was this all for?_

He needed darkness - _fuck,_  he needed darkness and he was terrified and he brought his shirt up to hide his face - _tears._

It was all over.

It was all for nothing.

No degree... He couldn't... He couldn't stay. Everything he did... Everything he did, and this was how it ended.

“Dean Heeren,” Rhuden announced. “The council finds you-”

“Wait,” Johnson said softly.

There was impatient quiet.

“Dean,” he continued, “what's on your hip?”

Dean sniffed, lowering his shirt and opening his eyes, waiting for the blurriness to clear. “Ah um… a… a bruise.” He stilled. “A hand bruise. Missing the ring finger.” He slowly looked at Tawkin. “Your hand bruise.”

Johnson motioned with his hand. “Dean, can we compare his hand against the bruise?”

Dean stood up resolutely, fire back in his tear-stained eyes. He yanked his shirt up, glaring down Tawkin. “Be my fucking guest.”

\---

Tawkin’s office was packed up for him.

Dean watched him go, arms crossed and hand throbbing, his chest filled with the deepest sense of satisfaction he had ever felt.

Johnson clapped his shoulder. “Proud of you, son.”

Dean grinned at him. “Thank you, sir.”

“I'll sign off on the ah-” he glanced around, “-paperwork. You're still going to graduate this weekend, Dean. I promise.”

Dean hugged him tight. “Thank you, Dr. J. This means so much to me.”

Johnson smiled, hugging him back. “I'm going to pull a few strings. I might call late tonight. Be prepared to answer.”

Dean nodded, and Johnson headed to his own office.

Babs caught Dean’s eyes and jerked her head towards the exit door. He followed her, shutting the door behind him. Barely a second had passed before she was hugging him tightly, peppering his face with kisses as tears fell down their faces.

Dean held her tightly, shaking with joy. “I thought it was over, I thought it was over,” he breathed out into her shoulder.

“I'm so proud of you,” Babs sobbed out. “Even-even if you were kicked out I st-still would've been proud of you. Punched that motherfucker right in the face!” She pulled back, wiping her eyes. “I'm so so sor-sorry you had to put up with him.”

Dean held her cheeks in his hands, smiling wide. “It's okay. I'm okay. I love you. God, I love you.” He pulled her in again. "Thank you. For everything. Mom, thank you. You're my family."

"Always," Babs whispered back.

Running footsteps broke through the afternoon air, and Dean turned to see Sam breathing hard.

“Dean, I heard you-”

Dean was in his arms before he could finish. “It's okay, everything's okay,” Dean hurried out.

Sam patted his hair, shooting a worried look at Babs, who was still crying softly.

“I heard you punched a professor…”

Dean pulled back and grinned. “I sure did!”

Sam paused a moment and finally laughed, shaking his head. “You're something else, Dean.”

“Look I'll explain everything later but now I've gotta get ready for a date!”

“A date?”

Dean ran off. “A date!”


	74. Chapter 74

Gabe had barely raised his hand to knock at Babs’s door before Dean had flung it open and grabbed his lapel, pulling him into a wide-smiled kiss. Gabe made a noise of surprise before kissing him back.

“You're happy,” Gabe noted when Dean finally pulled away, bright-eyed.

“I took down a fucker today and I am ready to _celebrate!”_

Gabe laughed nervously. “Ah, oh. Oh no. My date seems indescribably lame now.”

Dean leaned in, nose to nose with him. “ _Perfect._ Oh hey, I was kinda waiting for you to get here to ask um…” Dean held up his mottled hand. “Can you fix this?”

Gabe raised a single eyebrow and leaned in, kissing it gently.

Dean flexed his healed hand. “Thanks!”

“Should I even ask?”

Dean looped his arm through Gabriel’s, leading them down to Gabe’s car. “I'll explain everything on the way.”

\---

“Wow, what a fucking dick,” Gabriel said as they walked around.

Dean leaned over and took a bite out of Gabriel's cotton candy. “Ugh. Right?”

“Want me to go fuck him up?”

Dean laughed loudly. “And melt his eyes out? Nah, I think losing his job was enough.”

Gabe shrugged and suddenly pulled Dean towards a building. “ _This_ is my favorite one.”

Dean snorted. “Really, Gabe-Babe? The Creatures of the Night exhibit?”

Gabriel bounced his eyebrows. “I like the bats.”

Dean followed him in. “You were right. I've never been on a date like this before.”

The room was dark, only the smallest bit of light making the animals visible. They squatted beside the naked mole rats.

“Hey Gabe?”

“Hmm?”

“What's your favorite memory?”

Gabe held his hand in the cover of darkness, leading him around the room. “Probably this ceremony the Tenochca used to do. They were so happy, like nothing else mattered. I used to join in. It was… bliss.”

“The Tenochca?”

“Ah, um, Aztecs.”

Dean kissed his cheek. “Would you wanna do that now?”

Gabe glanced at him. “What? The ceremony?”

Dean gave him a shy smile. “Yeah, if you wanna teach me.”

“Oh, _fuck yes.”_

\---

Dean downed his last shot of whiskey, feeling warm and bubbly. “I look _dumb,”_ Dean giggled.

“Really? I think you look fucking sexy.” Gabriel sat their clothes in his kitchen.

Dean wiggled his hips, causing the grass skirt to brush across his thighs. “ _Dumb.”_

“So then do I look dumb?”

Dean took in Gabriel’s green feathered skirt and painted tattoos. “Nah. You look pretty hot.”

Gabriel grinned at him. “You’ve gotta learn a dance.”

Dean spread his arms wide. “Teach me, Gaby-Baby!”

“Left foot out.”

Dean followed his lead, grinning. “And we shake it all about?”

Gabriel snorted. “Twirl.”

Dean twirled once, twice, three times and Gabriel was catching him, laughing.

“Maybe you shouldn't be drinking?”

Dean shook his head. “'M way more experiment-y this way. Gonna dance with you.” Dean grinned at him. “You're so pretty.”

Gabriel laughed through his blush. “Quit flirting with me, Deanie Weenie.”

Dean surged up to kiss him. “Nah. What's next?”

Gabriel sat him back on his feet. “You do three hops.”

Dean hopped on one foot, laughing softly to himself. “Alright.”

“And you just repeat to the rhythm.”

“What? That's it? Pssssh. That's easy.”

“Alright then, smarty pants. Let's see you do it.”

Dean nodded. “Okay, left foot, twirl-”

He slipped into Gabriel’s arms again. Gabriel grinned. “I'm beginning to think you’re doing this on purpose, Heeren.”

Dean bit his own bottom lip gently, running his leg up to Gabriel’s hips. “And if I am?”

Gabriel nuzzled his nose against Dean’s. “Then you've gotta be sober.”

Dean’s eyes met Gabe’s in a challenge. “Then sober me up.”

“Tempting, but I _believe_ I was promised a dance.” He swung Dean back onto his feet. “Now we need a fire.” He snapped, and a blaze appeared in the middle of the room.

Dean gaped. “Holy shit. What else can you do?”

“Uh, apparently not teach you how to dance.”

Dean met Gabriel’s eyes levelly, finishing the dance.

Gabe tried not to stare.

Dean twirled and stepped over to Gabe, nose to nose. “What were they like?”

“I-... Who?”

Dean let his mouth brush against Gabriel’s, grinning. “The Tech-... Teno-...”

Gabe licked his own lips absently. “The Tenochca.”

“Mmhm.” Dean danced away mischievously, circling the fire.

Gabriel smirked. “They were fierce warriors. I loved them dearly. Arms up, love.” Gabriel copied Dean, losing himself in the rhythm.

“What did they think of you?”

“They thought I was a god. Of course, I looked different then.”

“What did you look like?”

“Um… dark. Green wings. The whole shebang. Wait, fuck. I can just-” Gabriel shimmered, and standing in his place was a beautiful dark-skinned man with glistening green wings. “This.”

Dean froze. “Holy-... Your… eyes…”

“My eyes?”

“They're _gold._ ” Dean walked over to him, running his hands first across his face, then his feathers.

Gabriel’s eyelids fluttered. “Dean,” he warned.

“Fuck. _Fuck._ Can you really sober me up? I wanna experience this. God…”

Gabriel slid a thumb across Dean's hips, and all the fuzziness in his head went away. Breathless gasps fell from Dean’s lips.

Gabriel half-laughed. “What? You like this form better?”

Dean pouted. “Well, that's not fair. I was angry the first time I _really_ looked at you. You're gorgeous both ways but _wings, Gabe!”_

Gabriel spread them wide. “Wings indeed.”

Something mischievous slipped across Dean’s face. “Are these sensitive, too?”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “Don't you dare.”

Dean grinned evilly, nodding. “Oh, I dare. Prepare for tickling payback, babe.”

Gabriel took off running, Dean following close behind. They ran in circles around the fire, both grinning like idiots.

Dean turned on his heel and ran the other way, crashing directly into Gabe, landing on top. Gabriel quickly shifted forms before Dean could run his fingers across his wings.

Gabe stuck his tongue out. “What now, big boy?”

Dean leaned down, grinning. “Oh, just because I can't see them now doesn't mean they're not still there, right?”

Gabe flipped them, crouching over Dean, feather skirt brushing against Dean’s thighs. “Nice try.”

Dean ran his fingertips across Gabe’s shoulder blades. “I think I win, Gabe.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

“Dean…”

“Do you miss it?”

Gabriel blinked in surprise. “Miss what?”

“Your life. Being a god. Single women and long nights.”

Gabriel hummed thoughtfully. “Sometimes. But what I miss I can never get back anyways.”

“And what's that?”

Gabriel laughed. “The people, Dean. I've always loved the people.”

“So the worship?”

“A plus, but nothing I required.”

“Then why are you Loki?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Eh. Kinda complicated. Think of it as Witness Protection.”

Dean frowned and ran his fingers softly over Gabe's back, earning himself a gentle shiver. “And me?”

“What about you?”

“Am I just one person in a long series of people?”

“Well, of course, Dean. But - hey no, look at me - that doesn't make you any less special to me. When I fall, I fall hard, love. Everyone I've fallen for - and it's not more than a handful to begin with - I never forget. I close my eyes and still feel them, and I smile. I know human lives are short, babe. But they're beautiful. _You're_ beautiful. And, if you let me, I promise to love you with a fiercer passion than any who have come before me.”

“I… I’ve had so many people touch me without my permission. People keep promising to love me and they just keep failing.”

“I know.”

“Do you love me?”

“I… I don't know yet. I know that I could. That I'm headed for that ultimate ending.”

Dean searched Gabriel's eyes. “I… I give you my permission.”

“What?”

Dean leaned up to whisper in Gabriel’s ear, “ _I want you to touch me.”_ Gabriel shivered, his breath warm across Dean's neck.

“Are you sure?”

Dean flipped them, grinning down at Gabe. “A thousand percent yes.”

Gabriel reached up absently to circle his thumb across one of Dean’s nipples, eyebrow raised. “And you know I'm not just after some meaningless fuck here, right? I want to be here still, in the morning, with you.”

Dean’s breathing was slightly erratic, his eyelids heavy. “G-good. Me, too.”

Gabriel brought his other hand to trace winding patterns across Dean’s side. “We haven't talked about our sexual history yet.”

A soft sound escaped Dean’s mouth. “I’ve slept with a lot of people…”

“Me, too.”

“But I'm clean,” Dean breathed, dropping his head to nibble at Gabriel’s collarbone.

“Same.”

Dean snorted. “Well _duh!_ You're a fucking _archangel._ ”

Gabriel adjusted his hands until Dean was giggling, using the momentary lapse to flip their positions. “And _you're_ a blasphemer. Whatever shall I do with you?”

Dean wiggled his hips and looked hopeful.

Gabriel grinned at him. “You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

Dean nodded, and Gabe couldn't help but laugh.

He leaned down to catch Dean’s lips in a searing kiss before pulling back and gazing deep into his eyes. “You'll never fail to amaze me, Dean Heeren,” Gabriel whispered, ever so slowly pulling off Dean’s grass skirt.

Dean lifted his hips - to help or to purposefully rut against Gabriel he didn't know.

Maybe both.

Dean brought his hands up to massage Gabriel’s shoulder blades suddenly, and Gabriel collapsed and fell on top of Dean in surprise.

“Well, that worked out better than expected,” Dean mumbled in his ear.

Gabriel responded with a low groan and a gentle thrust of his hips.

Dean grinned and softly raked his nails down Gabe’s back, earning himself a keening moan. Dean made a thinking noise. “I think I might could get used to that sound.”

“You're a dick,” Gabriel murmured against Dean’s neck.

Dean stilled and Gabriel lifted his head to look at him blearily. “What?” Gabe asked.

“Nothing! Nothing. I just… It's a really bad joke.”

Gabe lifted an eyebrow. “Tell me.”

“It's gonna ruin the mood.”

“See, now I'm curious.”

Dean sighed. “Okay. Okay. But you gotta set me up again.”

Gabe laughed softly. “Okay. Here goes.” He cleared his throat. “You're a dick.”

“Well. You are what you eat.”

Gabriel looked at him blankly for a moment before groaning and hiding his face. “ _Nooooooo._ That was awful!”

Dean grinned. “Then why are you laughing?”

Gabriel tried to hide the shaking of his shoulders. “I'm laughing _at_ you, not _with_ you, babe!”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Admit it. You think I'm funny.”

Gabe lifted his head and smiled against Dean’s lips. “I admit that _you_ think you're funny.”

Dean's phone rang from the kitchen and Gabriel hid his giggles.

“Go answer your phone, you absolute lame-o,” Gabe said, rolling off Dean.

Dean padded over to the kitchen, making sure Gabe got a view of his bare ass. “Only other lame-o’s use the word 'lame-o’.” He dug around in his jeans for his phone and flipped it open. “Hello?”

Gabriel turned onto his stomach, head propped on his palms as he watched the way Dean moved.

“Yes, sir. Yes, sir. I'll be there as soon as I can. Yes, thank you. Thank you. Goodbye.” Dean turned to look at Gabriel apologetically. “I have to go.”

Gabe rolled his eyes. “Go do your thing, you loser. I'll still be here when you get back.” He watched the relief and adoration that passed over Dean’s face and smiled through his blush. “You need a suit, I'm guessing.”

“I have one at home. I just gotta-”

Gabe snapped his fingers, and Dean was in a very well-fitted suit.

Dean ran over and dropped down beside Gabriel to kiss him hard on the lips. “Thank you, babe.”

Gabe winked at him. “Go do your thing and then get that cute ass back here.”

“Excuse you, my ass is _sexy.”_

Gabriel’s eyes twinkled. “That it is.”

Dean grinned. “Okay. Okay. Ummmm I got everything, I think. I gotta-”

“Wait.”

Dean looked at Gabe, who rolled his eyes.

“You need a _cast,_ you dork.”

Dean sighed in relief. “What would I do without you?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Perish, probably.”

\---

Dean pulled into a parking spot, the stars glittering above him.

He was nervous.

He was nervous but excited but _nervous._

He locked the car and ran up to the building, sliding his ID to get in.

Johnson was waiting for him outside his office.

“Dean, my boy!” he said, arms wide.

Dean gave him a brief hug. “Hey, Dr. J.”

Johnson chuckled slightly. “You seem nervous.”

“Well, I mean, you have the power to decide if I graduate or not so… a bit, yeah.”

“I already promised you that you would, son. Come in, let's sit.”

Dean sat in the familiar chair by Johnson's desk and folded his hands in his lap.

Johnson sat as well and motioned to Dean’s hand. “You really gave Tawkin a run for his money, huh?”

Dean flexed his hand in the cast. “I did my best.”

Johnson leaned back in his chair and regarded Dean thoughtfully. “I've been going over your academic transcript.”

Dean was silent.

“You have a _lot_ of credits, young man.”

“I know.”

“Enough that I almost think you're trying to pull one over on us.”

Dean smiled a bit. “Are you going to make that joke every time?”

“Yes. Yes I am.” Johnson grinned at him. “I called you here because an interesting opportunity has presented itself, what with all the courses you've, ah, 'taken’.”

“I could hear your air quotes, sir.”

Johnson laughed. “You were supposed to.” He handed over a manilla folder. “Feel free to read this now.”

Dean raised an eyebrow and pulled the papers out, scanning over them, eyes growing wider and wider. “S-sir… Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

\---

Gabriel jumped when Dean landed on the bed beside him, immediately pulling him in for a passionate, moan-inspiring kiss.

“Mmph?” Gabriel questioned, slipping his tongue into Dean’s mouth.

“Mmhm,” Dean answered, yanking off Gabriel’s shirt in one fell swoop.

Gabriel wasted no time in pulling off Dean’s suit, kissing down to his neck and biting softly.

Dean let out a breathy moan, a smile on his face.

Gabriel grinned against his pulse. “Good news, I presume?”

Dean leaned down and whispered in Gabriel’s ear, and the rest of the night was lost to kisses, moans, and a few ill-timed giggles.


	75. Chapter 75

Dean woke up slowly, limbs intertwined with Gabriel’s. He nuzzled his face into Gabe’s shoulder, kissing softly. “G’morning,” Dean whispered.

Gabriel turned his face toward Dean, lips pressed against his hair. “Is it morning already?”

“Mhmmm. I graduate today.”

Gabriel smiled wide. “I'm really proud of you.”

Dean snorted. “I still might trip on my way up.”

“Would still be proud of you,” Gabriel mumbled sleepily.

“Do you wanna come?”

“Would that be okay?”

“Hmmm,” Dean pretended to think, propping up to look at Gabriel and his messy hair. “Depends.”

Gabriel yawned. “On what?”

“If you wanna be my boyfriend or not.”

Gabriel finally opened his eyes, smiling. “Thought I already was?”

“Gotta hear you say it, Gabe Lincoln,” Dean teased.

Gabe rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “ _Yes,_ you dork. I wanna be your boyfriend.”

Dean leaned in to kiss him deep and slow, pulling back just slightly to mumble, “Then _yes.”_

\---

Dean pulled Gabriel into the shower with him, smiling affectionately as Gabe yawned. The water came out warm, and Gabe didn't even open his eyes as he flicked it to the perfect hot temperature.

Dean busied himself lathering up his hair as Gabe started to fall asleep against the wall.

Dean soaped up Gabriel's hair for him, laughing gently at the soft, sleepy sounds Gabe was making.

“You're cute,” Dean whispered, chuckling.

Gabe made some disapproving noise and wrapped his arms around Dean's waist, propping his chin on Dean's shoulder. “'M sexy,” he mumbled.

Dean kissed his cheek, grinning. “Nah. You're cute.”

“Sex. God.”

Dean squeezed his ass playfully. “Cute. God.”

Gabe bit at Dean's neck gently. “You're lucky 'm tired.”

Dean laughed. “What? Did I wear you out that much?”

Gabe groaned melodramatically. “Such youth. Such… _libido.”_

“If I remember correctly, it was _you_ that was begging for round three.”

Gabe grinned at the memory. “What a wonderful night.”

“Yeah.” Dean grinned at him. “Wanna do it again?”

Gabe made a pathetic sound and slumped against Dean, forcing him to hold Gabe up.

Dean laughed. “That was a joke, babe.”

Gabe nosed at Dean's chest. “You're not funny.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

Gabe finally opened his eyes, smirking mischievously. “It's a muscular disease. Very deadly. Makes me smile at lame guys.”

Dean leaned down to capture his lips, biting softly. “Oh dear. Whatever will we do?”

Gabe bit his own bottom lip, and Dean didn't have enough time to grab him before he turned the shower to cold and ran out, laughing.

“Oh no you don't!” Dean yelled, jumping out after him and hauling him back into the icy cold.

Gabe struggled against him, giggling, as Dean peppered the side of his neck with kisses. “What - am - I - going - to - do - with - you?”

Gabriel wiggled his hips hopefully.

Dean grinned and turned the water back to hot, grabbing the soap and sudsing himself up. “Hey Gabe.”

Gabe turned around to see Dean with soap boobs.

“I'm Double Dean.”

\---

Gabe groaned, burying his face in his coffee mug. “Do you _really_ have to leave so early?”

Dean grinned and gave him a sweet kiss. “Afraid so. There's all kinds of shit to do before the ceremony itself. But I'll see you there. Bobby'll save you a seat since Mom will be at the podium. I'll be by Sam and Jess.”

“Is that allowed?”

“It is when you're the son of the Chancellor.”

Gabe laughed and handed Dean his travel mug.

“You're a doll,” Dean said, winking.

“Sex doll?”

“More like Cabbage Patch Kid.”

Gabe choked on his coffee and coughed a few times before his head was down, shoulders shaking with laughter. “Ah, fuck you, Heeren.”

Dean ruffled his hair. “Fuck you, too, Gabriel.”

\---

Dean searched out Sam and Jess in the auditorium, taking a seat beside them. Sam grinned wide at Dean, grabbing his good hand. “This is it, Dean. We’re finally here.”

Jess leaned across Sam to kiss Dean's cheek. “You worked pretty hard to be here beside us, huh? Cut a whole year off.”

Dean shrugged. “What can I say? I'm pretty fond of you two.” He rested his casted hand against Jess’s cheek. “But quit with the small talk.”

“Whadya mean, dork?” Jess asked, eyes twinkling.

“I mean I don't recall you wearing an engagement ring last night.”

Jess broke into a wide grin and Sam laughed.

Dean jerked his head towards Sam. “Did this idiot finally get his head out of his ass and propose?”

Jess flashed her ring at Dean and nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! And I said yes!!!”

Dean couldn't hold it in any longer and dove across Sam to hug her, kissing her briefly. “ _Fuck yeah!_ God, I'm so fucking happy for you two! I love you. Shit, I love you!”

Jess laughed too, ruffling Dean’s hair. “Guess I'm finally one of you guys, huh?”

“Jess, you've _always_ been one of us.”

Jess’s eyes watered slightly, and she wiped at her eyes, still smiling. “Jessica Singer,” she mused.

Dean nodded, caught sight of Sam again, and hugged him tight, too, pressing a kiss against his mouth as Sam laughed loudly. “You finally grew some balls!” Dean exclaimed.

Sam rolled his eyes, face red. “Yeah, yeah. I love you, too, Dean.”

Dean winked. “Hey. I love you, three.” He grinned at the two of them. “Well, heck. Before long we’ll _all_ be Singer's!”

“Are you changing your name again?” Jess teased.

Dean shrugged. “Depends. Bobby and Mom seem pretty taken with each other. I wouldn't be surprised if they did some small ceremony. You know how much of a sap Bobby is.”

Jess laughed, resting back into her seat as Dean did the same. “Oh hey,” Jess said suddenly. “I heard back from that lab!”

“Yeah? What’d they say?”

“They said I could come in for an interview! And, if I’m hired, they’ll even help me get into a grad school in a few years!”

Dean snapped his fingers. “That's right! I almost forgot. So did y'all decide on Sam getting his Master’s first?”

Jess nodded. “Pre-Law isn't exactly a degree it's easy to get a job with. I got a response for a job first, so I'll work while he goes to school, and then we’ll switch.”

Dean nodded approvingly. “Mature decision. Well, you know Mom said she’d babysit any time she could. She's so taken with Billy. I think he reminds her of Jerry.”

“That's her son, right? She never really talks about him. Or Joe.”

Dean pursed his lips and sighed. “It's not a secret it's just… hard for her. They both died in a car crash.”

Sam winced. “Aw, hell. That's why she doesn't drive anywhere anymore, isn't it? After you?”

“Yeah. But uh… She never really said but I… did some research. It was two separate cars.”

“That's awful…”

Dean grimaced. “Joe was coming back from teaching and Jerry was coming back from college. It was dark and rainy and… they crashed into each other.” Dean ran a hand over his face. “I think Billy and Bobby are doing good for her. Helping her move on, ya know?”

Jess rested a hand over Dean’s, smiling softly. “Babs is wonderful. She's as close to a grandma as Billy will ever have. She can see him any time she wants. She's family.”

Dean squeezed her hand. “You know she loves you, right? Both of you. You're her kids, too.”

A mic turned on and instructions were rattled out, and Dean felt his heart hammering because this.

This was it.


	76. The Scarlet Letter

Gabriel adjusted his suit in the mirror, scowling and changing ties for the umpteenth time.

Ooooo, this one was very Van Gogh.

“You always did look good in a suit, Loki,” a voice behind him said.

Gabriel turned on his heel to see a dark goddess of destruction.

“Kali,” he breathed.

\---

She walked around his living room slowly, heels clicking against the tile, fingers grazing across the shelves.

“How did you get in?” Gabriel questioned, keeping his distance.

Kali blinded him with a beautiful smile. “I've always been allowed in your house, Loki. I've missed you terribly, you know.”

Gabriel had no response, so he didn't give one.

She picked up a small figurine, examining it. “How have you been?”

“Wonderful,” Gabe responded curtly.

“Is that so? Have you been whoring around with the help in my absence?” she teased, wrinkling her nose playfully.

Gabriel shrugged. “I appreciate you stopping by, but, really. I must be on my way out.”

“Ah! I'll come with you.” She walked gracefully over to him, linking her arm through his and resting her head on his shoulder.

She smelled like darkness and incense and something hot and heady. Intoxicating. Always so intoxicating. She moved her head until her chin was propped on him, staring up at him through thick lashes.

“So…” Gabriel started, slightly dizzy.

“So.” Kali smiled up at him.


	77. Chapter 77

Dean sat beside Sam outside in the folding chairs. They were surrounded by tons of people, all in caps and gowns, and all waiting anxiously for the ceremony to start. Jess had her chin propped on Sam’s shoulder, searching the bleachers for Bobby and Billy.

“I still can't believe you swung this,” Sam told Dean, grinning at their placement.

“I still can't believe they're making me wear a dress.”

“It's a cute dress.”

Dean grinned just as Jessica popped up and pointed. “There they are!”

They all watched Bobby find a seat near the front, Billy in a baby sling across his chest. The three waved big at him and he waved back, smiling widely.

“Proud papa,” Dean remarked, and Sam teared up just a bit.

“Oh. Oh no. Sammy, don't-”

Dean was cut off by Sam wrapping him in a huge hug, tears streaming down his face. “I… I never actually thought…”

Dean couldn't help a few of his own tears. “It's okay. Yeah. Me neither. I mean, the two Winchester boys? Graduating?”

“Happy?”

Dean hugged him tighter. “Yeah. Happy. Who woulda thunk it, right?”

“We have a family, Dean. A real family. It's not just us anymore.”

“We have a mom and a dad-"

“-and brothers and sisters-”

“-and a kid. A _kid,_ Sammy.”

“I have a _fiancée!”_

Dean hid his face in Sam’s shoulder. “Sam… This…” He cleared his throat. “This is everything I ever wanted for you. And I-... I don't regret a damn thing. Fuck, Sammy. We fucking made it.”

Someone tapped a microphone and everything hushed. Dean glanced over at Bobby again and saw Gabriel sitting beside him, holding Billy and smiling wide.

Yeah.

They fucking made it.

\---

A few student speeches went by, but Dean could hardly listen. He had grabbed Sam’s hand a long time ago, and they were both shaking just a bit, holding the other tightly. Names began to be called, and Dean steeled his face, because he knew what was about to happen.

They skipped over Dean’s name.

He watched Sam’s confused face, but, to his honor, Sam just assumed Dean would get called with him.

Dean watched Jess get her diploma with a giant smile, and he could even pick out Bobby’s cheer.

More people, more people, and then Sam’s name.

Sam paused.

“Go up, you dork,” Dean whispered.

Sam cast a worried glance at him. “But you-”

“ _Sammy._ Go on.”

Sam walked up, casting a confused glance back at Dean before he grabbed his diploma, and Dean had his very own proud papa moment.

Sam sat back down beside him as more names were called.

“Dean, they skipped your name.”

“Yep.”

Jess and Sam exchanged terrified glances. “Did they kick you out? After the professor thing?”

“Nope.”

“Dean-”

Dean reached under his seat and pulled out two envelopes. “Here.”

They each took the one with their name on it, eyebrows furrowed. “What-...?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “ _Open them._ Goodness.”

They scanned the contents, eyes growing wide. Jess folded hers quietly. “Dean, I appreciate you applying me for grad school - and the scholarship - but I can't-”

“You can and will.”

Jess sighed. “We have Billy. Even with a scholarship, we can't afford-”

Dean placed a hand over her mouth, grinning. “I've got you covered.”

Johnson cleared his throat into the mic, and Dean pointed at him, eyes twinkling. Jess and Sam cast their eyes to the front.

“Hello,” Johnson said. “Thank you for attending the graduation ceremony. Before we dismiss, we have one more student to point out. If you look behind me, you will see Chancellor Heeren looking _extremely_ worried, as one student’s name hasn't been called.”

Babs had a hand to her face, forehead creased with concern.

“This is because we had a very, how shall we say, _non-traditional_ student this year. Dean Heeren, will you please come up?”

Dean winked at Jess and Sam and walked to the front, glancing momentarily to see Gabriel grinning like a madman at Bobby’s confusion.

Johnson motioned for Dean to stand beside him. “See, not only has Mr. Heeren completed his Bachelor's in only three years, he _also_ has proven himself extremely capable.” Johnson laughed softly and sighed. “Ah, this um… _passionate_ student went to his future professors and asked to prove his knowledge before taking the class. Essentially, he passed all the finals for classes he hadn't yet taken. Because of _this_ ,” Johnson met Dean’s eyes and they grinned, “he has actually just completed his Master's.”

Dean turned around and grinned wide at Barbara, whose eyes were wide and mouth was open. He held up one finger in a 'wait' gesture and winked before turning back to Johnson.

Johnson looked positively _alive_ with being able to deliver this information. He deadpanned into the mic, “Chancellor Heeren had no idea.”

The crowd laughed and a few whooped, clapping.

Johnson held up a hand. “On that note, the College of Literature has one more announcement.” He waited for the crowd to quiet down before continuing, “Seeing as Professor Tawkin was fired, we’ve had to have an emergency meeting about who to hire in his place. Again, Chancellor Heeren was not involved for one specific reason.” He grinned at Dean before leaning in to the mic and announcing, “We, Stanford University, would like to take this opportunity to welcome Professor Dean Heeren to our College of Literature.”

There were applause and cheers, but Dean could barely hear them over his own blood pounding in his ears. He couldn't stop freaking _smiling_ as he searched out Sam and Jess, who were both frozen sitting, open-mouthed and shocked. Arms around him caught him off guard as Barbara wrapped him up tight, happy tears cascading down her face. He hugged her tight back, finally letting his own tears fall.

Johnson clapped him on the back, laughing at the commotion. “I look forward to working with you,” he yelled over the noise.

Dean released Babs to shake his hand firmly, eyes shining. “Thank you, sir. I look forward to it, too.”

Cameras flashed as they shook hands, and Dean looked out among his people.

Johnson motioned towards the mic, and Dean stepped up, grinning.

“Class of 2006, will you please join me in _throwing our caps!”_

Cheers and whoops sounded out as every student threw their cap like confetti.

\---

“DEAN!” Jess yelled, tackling him to the ground after they were all dismissed. She peppered his face with kisses as he laughed hard.

Sam pulled him up, only to grab his face and do the same. “WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US?!”

Dean ducked out of their arms, laughing. “Oh, c’mon. You two have done so much for me, and I finally got the chance to do something for you.” He held Jessica’s shoulders, meeting her eyes and grinning. “You, young lady, are finishing college with Sammy.”

Jessica hiccupped a little as tears began falling down her cheeks. “Dean…” She grabbed him tight, holding on for dear life. “Thank you.”

Dean blinked away his own tears. “Hey. That's Professor Heeren to you.”

Jessica laughed as Sam whooped, and Dean was tackled by another body.

“DEANO!” Gabriel yelled, arms tight around him. “It all went so well! You didn't trip or _anything!”_

Dean laughed and turned to hug him back. “Oh gosh. Guys,” he said, addressing Sam and Jess, “I told him last night and he called me Professor all morning.”

Sam laughed and wrapped his arms around them both, squeezing.

Before long, Bobby was joining the hug fest, too. “I'm proud of you all,” he told them, papa tears in his eyes. “Babs said she’d be over soon. She's got pictures to take.”

Dean searched her out of the crowd and waved, and she returned it with the biggest smile he had ever seen. She ducked her way through the crowd until she was kissing his cheek. “How did you even manage to hide this for so long?!” she asked, smiling wide.

Dean shrugged. “Dr. J helped me. I thought the surprise would override any sort of dishonesty on my part.”

Babs laughed heartily. “Who would've thought that the young man who asked me to help him all that time ago would grow up to be a professor? Oh wait, that's right. I did.”

Dean kissed her forehead and smiled until his face hurt. “Let's go home,” he said, arm around Babs and his free hand in Gabriel’s. “Oh, wait. Hey, Gabe. I left my pajamas at your house. Can I-”

“House is gone. Gotta rebuild,” Gabriel noted nonchalantly.

“Um, what? Why?”

_“So.” Kali smiled up at him._

_“So… nice… to see you again,” Gabriel said, unlinking their arms. “But this? Us? We can't happen again. Ever.”_

_Kali’s eyes went dangerous._ **_“What.”_ **

_Gabriel winced. “Goodbye, Kali.”_

_He ran as fast as he could as she screamed and his house went up in black flames._

Gabe shrugged. “You probably don't wanna know.”

Dean laughed and pulled him closer. “Alright. I can help you rebuild. Maybe a gazebo on this next one?”

“Oooo, Deanie Baby. Talk architecture to me.”

They all walked towards Barbara’s house, chatting amicably, and Dean smiled to himself.

There was a lot of stuff in his life he didn't know, or didn't understand, and, he thought, maybe he didn't want to.

Because sure, here they were, trapped in the amber of the moment.

But maybe.

Just maybe.

 _This_  was why.


	78. Where The Sidewalk Ends (Epilogue)

_There is a place where the sidewalk ends_ _  
_ _And before the street begins,_

 

Gabriel pulled the muffins out of the oven, using a fork to pop them half out. “So,” Gabe started. “What have you been up to?”

Castiel sipped lightly on his tea. “I've managed to single-handedly demolish the social structure in Heaven. Half of my army has remained loyal to me, and we are holding a court with Michael to determine the fate of Heaven, since it cannot continue as it is.”

Gabe snorted, absently fanning the muffins. “That all?”

“I believe that watching everything crumble around him has made Michael willing to compromise. That, or the fact that he is now in mortal danger.”

Gabriel nodded, lips pursed. “Hm. I heard that, last night, a woman reported that 'a James Dean man’ tapped her son's forehead and somehow not only _stopped_ the life-threatening seizure he was having, but, miraculously, his brain tumor had disappeared.”

“I… have no idea what you're talking about.”

Gabriel watched Cas's eyes shift to the side and laughed. “Sure you don't. Muffin?”

“Yes, thank you.”

 _  
_ _And there the grass grows soft and white,_ _  
_ _And there the sun burns crimson bright,_ _  
_ _And there the moon-bird rests from his flight_

 

Babs handed Bobby a cup of tea and curled in beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder and sighing softly. Swing played on into the night.

“I been thinking,” Bobby started, arm around her.

“About what?”

“You asked what we were, and we never really came up with a good word.”

Babs smiled, eyes closed. “Yes, I remember. Boyfriend sounded too young, partner too work-related, and significant other was simply a mouthful. Did you think about using a Japanese word like I suggested?”

Bobby shrugged. “Thought about it,” he said gruffly. “But then I thought about it more.”

“Yeah? What did you decide?”

“I decided that maybe _tsuma_ would work best.”

Babs stilled. “I-... My Japanese is a bit rusty.” She looked up at him, eyes wide. “Does that mean-...?”

“Wife, if you'd have me.”

Babs smiled wide at him and kissed his cheek. “Of course, Bobby. You're my best friend. I'd love nothing more.”

 

_To cool in the peppermint wind._

 

Jessica was holding the camcorder as Dean squealed and Sam laid down, arms outstretched. Billy tottered over to them before falling into Sam's arms, sneezing as he went down. Sam immediately lifted him into the air and everyone cheered like he had just scored the winning touchdown. Dean made Jess pop the VHS into the player and they watched it on repeat for a while, grinning wide the whole time, narrating it like a play-by-play.

Dean dialed up Gabriel and had him come over, spending the next two hours trying to make Billy walk again. Jess popped in the VHS of when Dean was on the dance team, and it was while Dean was blushing and Gabe was laughing that Billy tottered into Gabe's legs.

 

 _Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black_ _  
_ _And the dark street winds and bends._

 

Antiochus propped his legs on Ernest's lap, wooden, hand-sculpted ring resting on his finger. Ernest resettled his book.

“ _I was thinking,”_ Antio started in Greek, hand toying gently with Ernest's hair.

Ernest closed his eyes and smiled. _“Yeah? About what?”_

_“You and me.”_

_“Mmm. About us being practically married now?”_

_“I was thinking… maybe… we would be good fathers, no?”_

Ernest opened his eyes to look at Antio, whose eyes were slightly afraid. _“What are you saying?”_

_“There are some… cousins of mine. Nymphs. They have a girl whose mother was killed tragically. And… I was wondering…”_

Ernest closed his book and turned to face Antio fully. _“If we could adopt her?”_

Antio nodded. _“Yes. Take her in.”_

Ernest looked around their big library and, for the first time, wondered what tiny troubles that tiny feet would get into. He smiled at the thought. _“Yes.”_

 

 _Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow_ _  
_ _We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,_

 

Dean wrote on the chalkboard, explaining grammatical context to his class. The soft scratch of a room taking notes reached his ears, and he looked back to see one girl sitting all alone, head down.

He called on her next and smiled at her answer, nodding encouragingly. He called on her as often as he felt she knew the answer, until she finally sat beside someone one day.

She met Dean's eyes and looked terrified, and he gave her a comforting smile.

He was packing up his papers when a book was placed on his desk.

He glanced up to see the quiet girl fidgeting. She bowed her head and walked quickly away, and Dean lifted the sticky note that was stuck to the Shel Silverstein compendium.

'Thank you for believing in me.’

 

 _And watch where the chalk-white arrows go_ _  
_

 

Dean stretched his arms over his head, waking up slowly. He opened his eyes to see Gabriel already awake, watching his face curiously and openly.

“Good morning,” Dean said, sleep in his voice.

“I love you,” Gabriel responded, staring at Dean in awe.

Dean's eyes widened in surprise, and they stared at each other for a moment before Dean slowly smiled. “I love you, too,” he whispered.

 

_To the place where the sidewalk ends._

 

Dean swooped down to scoop up Billy, who laughed loudly, yelling out, “Uncle Bean! Uncle Bean!”

Sam grinned. “I didn't teach him that.”

Dean carried Billy like a sack of potatoes while Billy squealed with laughter. “Sure you didn't. I've got a bit of news.”

“Yeah?”

“I've been promoted to Dean. Johnson retired.”

Sam slowly grinned and Dean sighed.

“Sammy, don't-”

“Dean Dean.”

Dean sighed again, a smile playing around his lips. “Just be happy for me, bitch.”

Sam took Billy and sat him down before wrapping Dean up in a hug. “I am so happy for you, jerk.” He paused. “So would you rather I call you Double D?”

 

 _Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,_ _  
_ _And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,_

 

Their entire family sat in front of the TV, Dean and Gabriel cross-legged in the front, hands clasped tightly, waiting.

Even Billy was quiet for once, sitting on the couch with Barbara and watching the TV worriedly. Even at only ten, he understood this moment.

The announcer held a finger to their ear, took a deep breath, and announced, “The United States has legalized same-sex marriage.”

There was a beat where no one in the room breathed. The TV cut to people screaming and cheering, kissing the people they would finally get to _marry_ now, and Dean glanced over at Gabriel through watery eyes to see tears falling down his face, too.

“We won,” Dean whispered. He glanced back at Babs, whose tears were waterfalls. “Love won.”

His lips curved into a grin, and he laughed and launched himself at Gabriel, kissing the life out of him. Gabriel threw his hands up, broke the kiss, and let out some old, foreign victory cry. Dean glanced back at Sam, who was smiling with watery eyes. Sam barely had time to tell Dean “Wait!” before Dean had him wrapped up in his arms. Sam was laughing hard as Dean grabbed his face and kissed him, and then both were laughing and crying.

A hand carded through Dean's hair and he met Jessica's teary face, and she pointed behind him. Dean turned to see Gabriel, tears falling, unable to form words as he knelt with a ring in his fingers.

“I-... I was hoping for this outcome,” Gabriel choked out.

Dean couldn't speak either; he just nodded, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks.

There was a beat, then the whole room went crazy, clapping and cheering as Dean accepted the ring, kissing Gabriel senseless.

 

_For the children, they mark, and the children, they know_

 

Dean and Gabriel laid in bed at their house, and Dean smiled to himself.

“Our nephew graduated today,” Gabriel whispered to him across the darkness, chin propped on Dean's chest.

“I know,” Dean said, grinning. “Man, we're getting old.”

Gabriel laughed. “ _I'm_ getting old. You're still so young.”

“I'm forty-four. That's pretty old.”

“Yeah, well. I still love you. Even with all these wrinkles.”

Dean pouted. “Hey. I look _distinguished.”_

Gabe grinned at him for a moment before it slipped away. “Hey, Dean? I was thinking.”

“You do that?”

“Shut up. I was thinking about how… lonely… immortality is.”

Dean was still against him a moment before running his hand through Gabe's hair. “Is that why I haven't seen you mojo anything up for a long time?”

“I… yeah. It is. I've been on Earth for _millennia_ , babe. I… think I'm almost ready to go home.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I've been talking with Cas, and he said I could trade my grace for a soul, if I wanted.”

“Prime Minister of Heaven Cas?”

“There is literally no other Cas.”

Dean smiled against Gabriel's hair. “It's your life, love. I will always support you and your decisions.”

Gabe pulled back and looked deep into Dean's eyes. “I want to grow old with you,” Gabriel whispered.

Dean leaned up and captured his lips in a kiss, as wonderful as it was familiar. “Then grow old with me, Gabe Lincoln,” Dean whispered back, grinning.

 

_The place where the sidewalk ends._

 

Hello, babies.

Welcome to Earth.

It's hot in the summer

And cold in the winter.

It's round and wet and crowded.

At the outside, babies,

You've got about a hundred years here.

There's only one rule that I know of, babies --

 

Goddammit, you've got to be kind.

**Author's Note:**

> Holy crap, guys. It's actually done. Thank you for reading, honestly. That means literal worlds to me. And a very special thank you to Emi_thesassiestsousa and ladystiltskin67, who dealt with me screaming about plot points late at night and kept my spirits high. Literally. Go love them as much as you can. They deserve the world and so much more.
> 
> And, lastly, don't forget: Goddammit, you've got to be kind.
> 
> Soundtrack: https://open.spotify.com/user/0p2we91ki0k5016701pkspsva/playlist/2qkYc8EuLt3C6FrgQmaAyA?si=ba8xWhRvSFiWS5VWLpDxIg


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